


It’s All Happening

by cherryziggystarsdust



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Almost Famous au, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, Journalist Remus Lupin, M/M, Marauders AU, Mutual Pining, Rockstar Sirius Black, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryziggystarsdust/pseuds/cherryziggystarsdust
Summary: Remus Lupin is a 21 year old music journalist tasked with writing an article about London’s up and coming rock band, “The Marauders.”This all appears simple enough, until Remus is whisked away on tour with the group—and madly in love with their front man, Sirius Black.Loosely based on the film “Almost Famous.” Like, real loose.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 19
Kudos: 23





	1. prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!
> 
> thx for reading :) just for clarification, i’ve taken some aspects of almost famous and applied it to this fic, but it in no way will follow to exact plot or characters. also—you don’t need any prior knowledge of the movie to read this!

It was a strikingly cold day when Remus had received news of his latest story assignment. He was clad in a thick corduroy coat, bell-bottoms dragging slightly on the cool concrete. His nose had gotten slightly red from the arctic temperature (arctic for Los Angeles, that is), and the scarf his mother had knitted him was wrapped tightly around his collar bone. Despite the current lack of necessity for fashion, Remus couldn’t help but conclude that there was nothing very rock and roll about his outfit. Today, he resolved, there would have to be resolve to this issue. 

Remus had, this morning, been tasked with writing a lengthy article about The Marauders, a glam rock band from London that was beginning to blow up along the west coast. In retrospect, Remus understood clearly why his editor, Alastor Moody, had assigned the story to him—he was, after all, from London himself, and embarrassingly educated on The Marauders' music. Their music, and their lead singer, Sirius Black. While Remus had immense respect for the groups autre members, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, there was always something about Sirius that made the boy’s cheeks flush up. Perhaps it was his shiny, chin-length waves, or the way his jeans hugged his hips, or the look of pure passion in his midnight eyes as he stroked the strings of his guitar. Probably all of them, Remus supposed with a sigh. 

Nonetheless, this was _work_ , and Remus was determined to be as professional as possible. His worst fear was appearing to the group as a desperate fan seeking attention. He was a journalist, and journalists were meant to get to know their subjects. Still, there was little use in denying the fact that if Sirius Black was the one asking, Remus would have done anything—and they hadn’t even met yet. 

“Listen kid, whatever you do, get that interview and get out of there. They’ll make you think you’re their friends, and then suddenly you’re halfway to Chicago with a substance problem. I expect good work from you, Lupin. I always do,” Moody had warned, tint of seasoned knowledge to his tone. 

“Right, yeah, of course. Get in there, get out.”

But it was 1973, and rock and roll never worked out that way. Because once you were in, it was impossible to leave. Especially when you’d vowed to dedicate your entire life to music and all of its promises.

As Remus arrived home that evening, he thought about what in his life could have possibly led him to this moment. Sitting in his Brutalist, Santa Monica kitchen fresh out of college, preparing to write an article about the group he’d kept posters of in his UCLA dorm. Remus was, fortunately, unfazed by his existential contemplation. Frankly, it happened quite often. Because he was doing exactly what he’d asked for his entire life—to write about music, to live comfortably, to experience the ‘70s in their fullest. But there was always something missing, and as _Bookends_ sounded through his old record player, Remus could never, for the life of him, seem to figure out what that was. 

_So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies_   
_And walked off to look for America_

❁❁❁

On the other side of town, Sirius Black was lying on silk sheets in the dead of night, staring up at the popcorn ceiling above him. He tended to do this, after a gig was finished and the parties had finally quieted. He smelled of sweat and cigarettes, beer and cologne, but there was something familiar about it all. Opting out of college, Sirius had never found any logical reason to pursue anything besides music. It was all he knew and all he loved—despite his family’s violent protests to the contrary. And so the crowds and loudness were all a comfort to him.

  
Still, evenings like this one weren’t necessarily uncommon. Much like Remus, Sirius had everything he could have ever asked for. Bandmates whom he loved, an enchanting natural talent for performing, and the lack of mundane nonsense that came with a day job. Sirius Black was a rockstar, and he knew it. Whether that sounded arrogant or presumptive didn’t matter much because it was true. He had the talent and the charm to show for it, and everybody who’d heard his name, loved him. But perhaps that was it, all of the people around him. He’d gotten used to the idea that despite the love he received, his parents would always see him as a man banished to hell. The eyeliner and the David Bowie blaring though their large estate had already made Walburga and Orion Black’s blood boil. But the disappointed anger they felt then was no match for the livid disassociation they’d shamelessly displayed when Sirius packed up a leather trunk and jumped into James Potter’s convertible Camaro. He was gone for good, and not a single insult or beating in the world could prevent that. 

Still, there was a stoic, occasional loneliness that pervaded Sirius’ otherwise positive spirit. He’d found a second family in the Potters, who’d been caring for him as their own since he could remember. The mates he’d found in James and Peter were unmatched, and Sirius almost never felt alone. Still, he wondered if there was something else out there. Some other feeling he hadn’t yet gotten the chance to experience. And as he drifted asleep in his Chateau Marmont hotel room, _Bookends_ quietly singing him to sleep, Sirius was completely unaware of the mystical change that tomorrow would bring. 

_I'm empty and aching and I don't know why_   
_Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike_   
_They've all come to look for America_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song i’ve quoted twice is “America” by Simon and Garfunkel, which is both a lovely song and on the Almost Famous soundtrack.


	2. remus lupin & the troubadour.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remus meets the marauders, along with a few other friendly faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference! 
> 
> the troubadour: a super historically-rich music venue in West Hollywood. Elton John played one of his first shows here! I’ve been to a couple of concerts there and they were lovely. 
> 
> pamela de barres: one of the most famous groupies of the ‘70s. Penny Lane from Almost Famous is though to be based on her. 
> 
> roger taylor: drummer for Queen. very good-looking and thought to have broken norms for drummers due to his front-man type look. 
> 
> the continental-hyatt: a los angeles hotel made famous by rockstars in the ‘70s for their extravagant parties late into the evening.

Before Remus could collect himself, it was Saturday evening. He’d been anticipating this very moment for days now, and nothing he did to calm himself down seemed to work efficiently. Truthfully, it didn’t appear that there was much he _could_ do. How might you prepare yourself to meet the boy you’d been pining over since your freshman year of college? It was an impossible-to-answer query. 

As Remus was getting himself ready, anxious fingers shaking slightly as he slipped on a pair of corduroy jeans, he realized that perhaps this was a good thing. Maybe, he thought, seeing someone in the flesh sensationalizes them less. Maybe once Remus saw Sirius in person, he wouldn’t be as lovestruck. 

Not likely, but a boy could rationalize if he wanted to. 

Remus’ outfit was sensibly stylish, if he did say so himself. It was a struggle, really, to find an appropriate outfit for this god-forsaken night. Because he’d wanted to seem voguish enough, look like he’d bred rock music in his soul and fit in well with the sloshed beer and buzzing amplifiers. Still, he _wasn’t_ a rockstar, and didn’t want to give off the impression that he believed otherwise. And he was working, technically, but Remus only considered the latter fact very briefly. At the finite of this mass consideration, the boy was clad in dark corduroy jeans, which flared out at the ankle to expose his ever-so-slightly platformed boots. With that came a long-sleeved, mustard button down shirt.

Despite Remus’ own internal gaze, he did have a good look about him. His tawny-brown hair rested in a chic mess atop his head, and his lanky height proved to be a good aid in flattering his legs in the jeans he’d become so accustomed to wearing. Still, the boy didn’t find himself to be cool in the slightest.

Just before he was set to leave, an inconvenient ring came from red landline in Remus’ kitchen.

“Hello?"

“Lupin, hi. Are you set to have 1,000 words in by Monday?,” Moody asked, always getting straight to the point. 

“Yeah. About to leave for the show right now, actually.” 

“Alright, kid. Remember what I told you. _Don’t_ make friends with them.” 

“Right, yeah, promise. Alright, I’ve gotta go.” 

Promises, however insistently repeated, meant nothing if the keeper didn’t mean a single word of it. And anyway, Remus was a professional. He’d never let personal affairs get in the way before, why should he now? 

❁❁❁

Arriving at the venue was a whirlwind cluster fuck. Remus had made the mistake of driving his beat-up Volvo all the way up to West Hollywood, which was stupid for a number of reasons, but mostly that he wouldn’t be able to find parking within half a mile of the small venue. Still, he trudged on, parallel parking with ease in correlation of his London roots, and allowed the pleasing clink of his boots to carry him to the back entrance of the Troubadour. It was mostly vacant, considering most devoted fans were clustered out front in an attempt to make good on their general admissions ticket and secure a spot in front of the stage. 

Remus realized suddenly as he’d arrived, that he wasn’t quite sure how to go about getting backstage. He had a lanyard confirming his legitimacy, but that didn’t guarantee much outside of his astute permission to be _standing_ there. 

Knocking awkwardly on the cold metal door, Remus bit his bottom lip slightly, now cursing himself for considering fashion above climate. 

“Can I help you?,” said a burly, disinterested man. 

“Hi, I’m Remus Lupin. I’m here to interview the Marauders for Godric magazine,” he said, gesturing towards the shiny badge around his neck.

“Does the band know you’re here?"

“Well, not necessarily, but usually journalists don’t have to contact the people they’re going to be interviewing in this particular field as long as they’re at the venue and—" 

The door slammed in his face. He had heard about The Marauders avoiding press in the past, but he never considered it enough of an issue. It wasn’t as if he was there to slander them. The review would be glowering, he was certain. Still, Remus supposed, they might not know that. 

Feeling awkward but unwilling to give up just yet, Remus waited, cold hands in his pocket. The Marauders’ bus would arrive soon, surely, and he might have better luck asking them directly. He did deem himself a friendly looking person, after all. 

Before he was greeted by the group themselves, a trio of frilly dressed girls, most likely around his age, waltzed near him cheerily. He was hesitant to call them groupies, but he couldn’t seem to think of an alternate explanation for the flounced eyeliner and lack of instruments. 

_They seem nice enough_ , Remus supposed. _Maybe there was a way in with them._

The three girls had transparently noticed his awkward presence, which he was slightly grateful for, considering his lack of tact in approaching the situation. 

“Hi,” one of them greeted with a wide smile. “Waiting for the band?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Remus replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m here for an interview actually. I write for Godric magazine.” 

“Oh, really,” the other inquired enthusiastically. “I get a copy every month! What’s your name? I always keep up with which writers are on the music section.” 

“Remus Lupin,” he offered, slightly less aloof than before. Remus had never quite guessed that he would be recognized. 

The girl pointed a manicured nail at him ardently. “Lupin! I recognize that name. I loved your story on Zeppelin. I think they’re a little pretentious, too, but don’t tell anyone I said that.

“Anyway, how rude of us! My name is Marlene, this is Dorcas and Mary,” a now-revealed Marlene said, pointing at the two girls to her right. 

“Nice to meet ya!"

“Yeah, cool to meet you, Remus.” 

There was something about the three girls that felt inherently safe to Remus. He hardly knew them, sure, but he suddenly felt inclined to tell them all of his life’s secrets without an ounce of regret. Perhaps all young women were that way. 

“Nice to meet you guys. Are you, like, with the band or something?,” Remus asked tentatively. 

Marlene smiled knowingly. “Well, sort of. We’re not groupies or anything, but one of our best friends Lily is The Marauders’ manager, so it’s just become a little tradition of ours to follow her around wherever she goes. And of course the music is lovely, too.” 

Remus recognized the name Lily, Lily Evans. She was fiery red-head who had single-handedly taken The Marauders from playing empty pubs in Liverpool to selling out in California. He could understand why she had such devoted friends. 

“Oh, well that’s cool, I hear she’s very good at her job.” 

“That she is,” Mary said. “Anyway, why are you standing out here in the cold? Is the bouncer giving you trouble?"

“A little, yeah.” 

Dorcas clicked her tongue disapprovingly, nodding with sage sympathy. “They tend to be that way. When the band gets here, you can come along with us, they’ll be cool with it. Any friend ours is a friend of The Marauders, the boys know that.” 

As if on cue, a large, silver tour bus rolled up with a loud squeak. 

Remus looked up from his firm gaze at his feet, and could have sworn his heart stopped beating at the sight of him. 

Him. Sirius Black. The boy he’d pledged allegiance to for years.

Remus’ theory that people looked much less glamorous in person was a wide misinterpretation, obviously, because Sirius looked even more ethereal through Remus’ own two eyes. His hair rested beautifully, always looking freshly shampooed yet slightly messy. His thin yet toned arms peeked out through his thin top, and the look of pure enjoyment for life on his face was unmistakeable. It was driving Remus insane, and his heart felt like it would, rightfully so, beat out of his chest in just a brief second. 

“There they are!,” Marlene enthused. “Come on, don’t be shy! We’ll introduce you well.” 

Remus followed awkwardly behind the trio, feeling much less rock and roll than the cluster of people in front of him. 

“Boys! and Lily! This is Remus Lupin, he’s a super hot writer for Godric magazine and he’s here to write a story about you,” Marlene said, staying true to her word of a glorious greeting.

The first to reply was James, the curly haired bassist standing at about six foot three. He was a lovely boy to look at, and it was somehow endearingly obvious that he’d had some sort of preppy academic background before the band had taken off, despite the faint eyeliner adorning his eyelids.

“Right on, hi mate. Hope you’re not here to slander our music, eh?,” he said jovially, in the same tone of voice you’d expect from someone looking as kind as he did. 

“Yeah, hey,” Peter added, quietly but friendly. 

Like most drummers with the exception of Roger Taylor, Peter Pettigrew was the more quirky, awkward member of the band, but still took after James in that he was kind and willing to meet new people. 

“Lily Evans, pleasure to meet you,” the short, powerful looking girl added with a kind smile. Despite her flashy outfit, Lily appeared, like James, to have an academic background. She’d certainly cracked open a book or two. 

To someone with exceptional people skills, it seemed clear that the group was waiting for Sirius’ contribution to the conversation, but he said nothing, simply glancing at Remus with intimidating mystery. 

Remus, of course, felt as if he was being silently sized up. And to be sized up by Sirius Black was horrifying. He suddenly felt like throwing up. He shouldn’t have come. No article is worth discovering that Sirius Black disliked you at first glance. But before Remus could do anything rash, Lily smoothed over any awkwardness before it could even occur. 

“Alright, well. We should head in, yeah?,” she said, with enthusiastic agreement from the group, particularly James. 

There was something about their relationship that couldn’t quite be pinpointed, but certainly displayed an endearing level of respect. It seemed that James Potter would follow Lily Evans to the end of the Earth if she asked. 

As the group shuffled through the back door, the previously-stoic security guard glanced at Remus in slightly-amused shock. He’d never seen someone get in so quick with a band since Pamela de Barres. 

Just as Remus thought Sirius wouldn’t speak a word to him until explicitly asked, his infamous cologne approached on the trip towards the dressing room. 

“Cool boots,” he said simply. 

Watching the boys perform was truly a gift from God, Remus thought. There was something special about their stage presence, so non-pretentious and unintentionally cool.

And the music—oh, the music. It felt so raw and personal, and yet implied a level of universal lyricism that sent Remus spiraling into a fit of unadulterated admiration. When the encore had finally come to a close, it was clear that the audience would have done anything to experience that moment again. Which, frankly, explained the piles of people that brawled for tickets to each show, regardless of its location. 

When the band retreated back to their dressing room with the accompaniment of Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, Remus held back awkwardly for a moment. He _was_ supposed to be there, sure, but he wasn’t their friend, and something about that left the boy feeling like he needed an invitation. 

Luckily, Sirius was very accustomed to feeling ostracized for no good reason. 

“Lupin, you coming?,” he smirked, making good on their second interaction of the evening. 

❁❁❁

It had been roughly an hour, and Remus, indeed, had _not_ gotten his interview. It was less for a lack of trying, and more for the fact that he’d genuinely begun to engage in friendly conversation with the boys—something he never thought he’d get the opportunity to say even in an alternative universe. 

“You know Lupin, I think I must like you so much because you’re English. I love it here, but sometimes the broads from California are a little daft, yeah?,” James had said. 

“Hey! _I’m_ from Redondo Beach!,” Dorcas protested with a laugh. 

The conversation had seemed to flow so easily. Remus didn’t play any instruments, but he was privy enough on musicianship to be able to add some remarks to a conversation based in that direction, and for the first time in his life he felt as if his opinion wasn’t second-rate. When he wrote an article, it was _his_ , sure, but the editor’s opinion was always more important, as like school. But now, Remus felt like his opinion meant the world, like he was a _friend_ of theirs. Although he was still slightly too starstruck to admit that quite yet. 

“No, Peter, really, mate. I think you’re quite cool."

“Thanks Lupin! I always feel so awkward on stage. Good thing I’m in the back, eh? We’ve got Black for that pretty front man face anyway,” the boy replied, obviously pacified by Remus’ reassurance. 

It wasn’t even a direct comment, but still, Remus felt his cheeks heating up at the mention of Sirius Black and his pretty face. 

“Say, Lupin, I just realized you haven’t actually gotten your interview,” Sirius said suddenly. 

“Oh, right!,” added James, concerned. “Sorry mate. It’s so late now, but I could still say a few things for you, if you need?” 

Just as Remus was about to reply, Sirius butted in quickly, as if to avoid that plan all together. “No, no. I mean, we could, but I bet you’re tired, yeah? How would you feel about coming to see us tomorrow at the Roxy? And I promise we’ll get you a quote? Plus, there’s always some fun parties at the hotel we stay at, you should come around.”

“Oh, yes, come along! I can give you ride to the hotel tomorrow if you’d like. I have business I need to take care of Santa Monica anyway, I can grab you on my way back,” Lily added kindly. 

Remus thought he must have been dreaming. Sirius Black, the boy he’d only ever interacted with in his own mind and through a measly record, was asking him if he’d like to come to a _party_ with the band. And not to mention, The Marauders and their lovely manager somehow knew where Remus lived and considered it “a lovely part of town he’d have to show them around one of these days." He was certain this wasn’t real life, but was nonetheless going to take advantage of the opportunity.

“Uh, yeah, yeah alright, sure. If I won’t be in your way, of course.” 

“Nonsense. You could never be in the way. I’d take you on tour with us if I could,” James finalized in unknowing ominousness. 

As Remus finally bid his goodbyes to the group around one in the morning, cigarette in hand, he was feeling on top of the world. He had never in his life felt more intoxicated by the mere joys of life, and suddenly wondered why in God’s name he had ever been so nervous to begin with. And just as if the night couldn’t have gotten any better, a figure approached him. 

“Fancy some company back to your car? You mentioned parking far.” 

It was the raspy, ever-cool voice of Sirius Black, who Remus was shocked to cognize had become a friend. A friend who he’d exchanged phone numbers with and could call at anytime. He’d done the same with the rest of the group, but it still felt vaguely surreal. 

“Uh, yeah, alright, if you fancy a half mile walk.” 

The stroll was comfortably quiet, only a few small comments about the weather being exchanged. Remus, truthfully, couldn’t think up many things to say to Sirius. What in the world did someone like him talk about? 

“Lupin?,” Sirius asked suddenly, lowering his voice ever-so-slightly. “Can I ask you something?"

“Of course, what’s up?"

“Do you think we’re good?"

Remus frowned puzzlingly. “What?"

“Like, the band, you know? Do you think we’re like, actually good? Because sometimes I feel like—,” he trailed off.

Remus was baffled. Baffled that Sirius Black could ever have a single doubt about himself. Because even then, in the contemplative state of his face, Sirius’ eyes had a gorgeous gloss and the secret softness of his features were beautiful. 

“Sirius, I—yes, you guys are good. You’re bloody fantastic, if you ask me. I didn’t think someone as talented as you could ever question something like that, I mean, really, I don’t think there’s any band out there like you guys right now” Remus said, not meaning to spew out as much endearment as he had.

Sirius’ eyes seemed to light up at that. It was at this time, in the dead of night, that Sirius always seemed to contemplate things at their fullest extent. And currently, he was questioning what it was about Remus and his lovely hair and his kind smile that made him so nervous. 

“Oh, well, great then. Lupin, that means a lot coming from you,” he admitted. “You know, as a music journalist and all."

That wasn’t quite why, and Sirius knew it, but he couldn’t seem to muster up anything else.

As the pair finally arrived at the car, Remus suddenly felt a twinge of insecurity at his beat up Volvo. Sirius didn’t seem to notice, however. His eyes were too fixated on Remus to notice anything about his car, or their surroundings at all, for that matter. 

“Alright well, this is me. Thanks for the company."

“Yeah, anytime. I’ll see you tomorrow? Really do come to the party, they’re lots of fun. We’re staying at the Continental Hyatt, Lily will get you in.” 

“Yeah, alright, I’ll come, see you tomorrow,” Remus smiled. 

Just as he was about to slip into the driver’s seat, Sirius cleared his throat shyly and held back for a brief moment. 

“Hey Lupin, you’ll really have to tell me where you got those boots. They’re bloody cool.” 

And with that, he was off.

Remus felt drunk. Sirius Black had just invited him to a party and complimented his boots, and it appeared as if the dark-haired boy was aussi the shy figure in their conversation.

He was friends with The Marauders. The Marauders, and The Marauders’ manager, and The Marauders’ manager’s _friends_.

He couldn’t quite believe it, but Remus Lupin supposed a lot of wonderful things happened without the need to believe. 


	3. sirius black & the roxy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remus attends the marauders’ gig and chats with sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the continental hyatt is the hotel located on sunset blvd in los angeles. that the band in almost famous stays at, in case you were wondering where im getting it from :)
> 
> the roxy is another lovely LA music venue and nightclub in west hollywood. 
> 
> cw: use of mild homophobic slur by Sirius.

As Remus woke up on Sunday morning, the promising sun poked out from his sheer curtain as if to remind him that life, which was now getting quite interesting, was real. 

More importantly, as Remus woke up on Sunday morning, he was reminded that he would indeed be attending a party on a Sunday _evening_. He hadn’t engaged in that kind of behavior since college, and the lanky boy could only hope that his imperial alcohol tolerance from freshman year had endured.

Considering yesterday’s events, Remus was almost certain that if he would just go back to bed, then he’d finally wake up back in reality, concluding that meeting The Marauders, somehow befriending them, and wearing boots that _Sirius Black_ deemed cool, was in fact, a dream. But he couldn’t quite be sure, because the phone number written on his wrist in thick, smudgy sharpie told a different story. 

**_Marauders Hotel Room_ **

**_(310) 765-8890_ **

_Very logistical_ , Remus sardoned. In the course of one evening, he had suddenly acquired the power to give The Marauders a casual ring from their hotel, whenever he’d like. What ever had he done to gain such a right. 

Well, certainly Remus would never realize this himself, but he had earned the right simply by being himself. Because as much as the boy would deny it, he was quite cool, and everyone excluding him seemed to notice it. Everyone, with the poignant inclusion of Sirius Black. 

Sirius, back at the lofty hotel, couldn’t quite bring himself to admit why it was he was thinking so much about Remus. Perhaps he really was envious of the platformed boots that accompanied the journalist’s feet and was attempting a way to buy them off of him. But Sirius was sage enough to know that was a load of bollocks. The boots were lovely, but the person wearing them was ethereal. Clocking in at just an inch or so taller than the wavy-haired boy, Remus’ skin glowed in all hours of the day, and his eyes rendered a lovely hickory that seemed to offer kindness and vogue in the same breath. In fact, there were so many lovely things about him, that Sirius had barely remembered there were boots to begin with. Still, Sirius had never been one to confront matters of his heart head on, so he was comfortable to accept his perpetual stomach butterflies and airy mood. 

Just as Sirius was finally embracing the sunlight, which indicated that God had chosen to make him live another day, a ring came from the landline beside him. Reaching blindly for the sleek black buzz, he grumbled out a quiet greeting. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, sorry mate, did I wake you?” 

Remus. _Remus Lupin_ was calling. Shaggy-haired, hazel-eyed, cinnamon-scented Remus Lupin was calling. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Sirius thought. He wasn’t nearly enough awake to come up with some witty dialogue that would even slightly match the genius he had deemed Remus to possess. He sat up straighter in bed, then, as if Remus could somehow sense his coyness through the line. 

“Oh, uh, no. No, you didn’t, don’t worry. Good to heard from you, you’re still coming tonight, right?,” he asked, hoping futilely that the eagerness in his voice was muffled through the phone. 

“Yeah, Lily is set to pick me up around 5:30. I hope that’s not too early for me to be there. I’m sure nothing quite starts until 9.” 

“No!” Sirius cringed at himself. “No-not too early at all. You’ll just come with us to sound check and the show and what not, we’d be glad to have you.” 

“Like a groupie?,” Remus joked, feigning an actual insecurity of being places he wasn’t wanted. 

“No, like a _journalist_. Unless you’d like to be a groupie. I wouldn’t mind the affection, especially coming from a looker like you,” Sirius replied, once again taking a joke and somehow ruining it with his flirtatious nature. 

Remus, surely, was not quite sure what to say, but that didn’t quite mean he was displeased. Remus’ logical side had determined that Sirius Black was flirting with him, and that made his heart skip a beat. But the nasty, insecure portion of his psyche deemed that not only was Sirius straight and disinterested, but also that nobody in heaven or hell would want to flirt with Remus Lupin. 

Before he could think to respond, Sirius sighed regrettably. “Sorry mate, was that too far? Haven’t talked on the phone in a while, don’t know how to act.” 

It was a ridiculous, nonsensical explanation, but it was all Sirius could think to say about a sentiment he’d meant to feel but not to pronounce. 

“No, not at all. Sorry. Not used to compliments is all.” 

" _You_ , not used to compliments? I find that hard to believe, Lupin.” 

Just as Remus was thinking up the habitual detection tool he’d developed over years of self-deprecation, a loud shout came from the other line. 

“Everything alright?"

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. James is yelling on about how we need to eat breakfast now if we’re going to sustain a days worth of music. I don’t know. His words. I should probably go pacify him. I’ll see you tonight, yes? Don’t bail.” 

“Yeah, see you tonight.” 

“Lovely.” 

And the line disconnected before Sirius could think to ask why Remus had called in the first place. 

❁❁❁

Just as promised, Lily Evans arrived in front of Remus’ apartment complex at 5:30 sharp. He’d pegged her to be a punctual woman, and was somehow comforted by this fact. Without really knowing her quite well, Remus was already certain he’d get on quite well with the red-headed master mind. Who else, he thought, would discuss literature with him in the presence of a blaring amplifier. 

“Remus, hi!,” she greeted amicably as he slid into the passenger seat. 

Lily drove a fun BMW convertible, one that Remus could only assume she afforded with her ingenious managing and generous cut of The Marauders massive arena success. Something seemed rather endearing about James Potter, in all probability, deciding that she deserved a large sum of royalties for her services. 

“Hey, thanks for the lift."

“My pleasure, I love this side of town. What’s in the bag?,” she asked, gesturing towards the hefty suede satchel Remus had slung over his shoulder. 

“Oh, right. Well I had no idea what the type of wardrobe was for these sort of things, so I just packed a couple of button-downs, nothing much. I called at the hotel earlier to ask, but I suppose I just forgot."

“Oh, yes, Sirius mentioned that you had called,” Lily observed. Remus could just barely make out the slight knowingness of her tone. Like when you mentioned something in front of your mother that she’d just wrapped as your Christmas gift. 

“He did?” 

“Yeah, said he felt bad because he assumed you must have called for a reason and he started wanking on about making you a groupie. Can’t say I’m surprised, it’s all part of the Black charm, I suppose. Those cheeky jokes.” 

Remus was, simultaneously, grateful that Lily had filled the silence between them and over-analytically disappointed that the conversation Sirius had had with him was commonplace. He should have known, really. Why in the lord’s name would Sirius Black flirt with a random music journalist he’d met less than 24 hours ago. 

“Oh, right. Well, I didn’t mind much. Everyone at the office’s got a sense of humor like that.” 

“Still, he was very glad to hear from you.” 

Remus didn’t think to consider why Lily had added that last bit, but let it linger that at least he’d been glad to have received the call. 

❁❁❁

Before Remus and Lily had arrived for sound check, Sirius was beginning to find himself in an unexplained state of panic. He’d never attended to his looks this much before; truthfully, he was the kind of person that looked attractive just by existing ** _—_** with his long, dark hair, impossibly-perfect bone structure, unadulterated enthusiasm for life. He was an adonis, truly, and nobody in their right mind dared to deny that. Despite this, Sirius was crouching in front of a mirror, making attempts to strategically dishevel his hair in a way that looked unintentionally killer. The liner complimenting his ebony eyes was smoky enough to look like it hadn’t procured much thought in its application, but sharp enough that Sirius didn’t look like an amateur. All of these things, of course, he passed off as a possible result of him not smoking all day, or perhaps his poor coffee to food ratio. But, truthfully, Sirius Black was nervous for the same reason Remus Lupin was nervous. 

Concluding his internal conflict sharply, the backstage door clanked open, and voices ensued in cheery greeting. 

“Lupin! Hey mate, good to see you,” Sirius could hear James say, Peter following with a friendly “Remus, cool top.” 

Sirius was deciding when exactly to waltz out from his small dressing corner. It wasn’t something he was used to ** _—_** being awkward and aware of his own presence in a group. Sirius was the kind of person that people adjusted for; not rooted in his own selfishness, but more in the fact that where Sirius went, people followed, and so people tended to ask _themselves_ when an appropriate time to integrate into the rockstar’s well-deserved limelight was.

Finally making an entrance, Remus had noticed that Sirius walked with the same air of confident casually everywhere he went; it was something he would watch over and over again given the chance.

“Lupin, hey mate, how are ya?,” Sirius started. 

“Good, good. Cool venue.”

Before Sirius could reply, James smiled in agreement, beginning the onset of an undoubtably lengthy rant about The Roxy’s lovely architecture. 

“Oh, yeah it is, right! It’s just small enough where we don’t feel disconnected onstage but big enough that I don’t feel like I’ll suffocate. And the building is great, too. The colors and the architecture and what not, like those buildings from the ‘20s, I took a course at uni about those. Bloody cool.” he said, and it once again became clear that despite his dedication to rock and roll, James Potter was a posh, private school boy in the most endearing of ways. 

Just as soundcheck had come to a close, Remus was observing quietly from backstage left. His corduroy-clad shoulder was leaning smoothly on the cool wall, and despite his commitment to admiring the magic of The Marauders’ music, he would be remiss to ignore the thumping inconvenience of his heartbeat when he glanced at Sirius for more than a few seconds. It was more than just his godly looks that were entrancing to Remus, although those were certainly lovely. There was something about watching Sirius perform that felt like a gift. He had an artistically androgynous voice, an unreal way with his guitar, all while making his audience feel like they were exhilarating members of Earth. He was ethereal, and Remus didn’t think any line of professionalism, now, could prevent him from believing that forever and ever. 

Before the show had actually begun, Remus found himself placed awkwardly but comfortably in the same spot by the wall, not wanting to cause a fuss or interfere with whatever pre-show rituals The Marauders had. 

“Lupin, are you gonna stand by that wall all night?,” Sirius said disarmingly, slight chuckle to his voice. 

“Oh, well, yeah,” Remus replied with characteristic frankness. “Don’t want to get in the way. Don’t all of you lot have wild pre-show rituals that can’t be disturbed? Like, you know, selling your soul to the devil or something?"

Sirius lets out a laugh at that. A genuine, loud cackle. Remus thinks that he could get used to hearing it, and Sirius thinks that he could get used to letting Remus get it out of him. 

“You lot, as in the band, or musicians in general?"

“Both.” 

“Well, the Stones probably _do_ sell their soul to the devil. But James just tries to get Lily to fall in love with him to get the adrenaline going, and Pete frantically reads over his sheet music as if he needs it in the slightest. But I don’t do much at all, like the spontaneity.” 

Remus thought that must have been the most Sirius Black thing he’d ever heard. 

“Right."

“So what I’m _trying_ to say is that you should stop being awkward and come bum a cig off of me in my dressing room. You do smoke, yeah?” 

Sirius knew that Remus smoked, he’d remembered the cigarette hanging loosely off his lips from the first time they’d met, but for some reason felt the impish need to appear un-privy to the specifics of Remus’ personality. 

“Alright then,” Remus laughed, pushing his shoulder off the wall and stepping closer to Sirius. He hadn’t meant for the slight lift to propel him forward so much, but he now found himself close enough to Sirius that it was slightly questionable. Both of them chose to ignore it ** _—_** that was, after the longing glances neither of them would admit they offered out. 

“Right.” 

As Remus lounged casually on the old, leather couch of the dressing room, Sirius was re-applying his eyeliner, which he’d spent all day trying to pretend required no effort at all. 

“Ever thought of wearing some of this stuff, Lupin?,” Sirius asked, gesturing at the skinny black pencil in his calloused hand. 

Remus shook his head definitively. “No, no. It’s a little too, I don’t know ** _—_** "

“Fruity?,” Sirius finished with slight offense. Now, he was being ridiculous, certainly. In order to come to terms with the fact that he was, in fact, pining over Remus Lupin, Sirius had decided to dispel its legitimacy by assuming him to be a close-minded prat.

“No!,” Remus replied, almost immediately. “That’s not at all what I meant. I’m actually ** _—_** well, never mind. I just meant that only certain people are able to pull it off. You know, people that have a certain look.” 

“Oh, Re, I didn’t know ** _—_** I mean, I’m sorry, I know you’re not like that. It’s just that some people _are_ , and it’s hard not to assume that _everyone’_ s going to think you’re ridiculous and--oh never mind, I’m being ridiculous. What do you mean by a certain look?"

Remus should have certainly been listening to the actual words coming out of Sirius’ mouth, but the fact that he had somehow procured a nickname was enough to consume his head (and his heart) with infinite drunkenness. 

“I just mean that, you know, I’m lanky and got a couple of scars and what not, you know. Like, you’ve got to sort of already be cool. Like a precursor or something.” 

“So you think _I’m_ cool?,” Sirius joked, deflecting off of how badly he wanted to kiss Remus and all his bloody lovely scars. 

“Oh, bug off. Of course I do, everyone thinks you’re cool, _you_ know you’re cool. It’s not some kind of well-kept secret that you’re a rockstar."

For the first time in his life, Remus watched Sirius blush. 

“Well, I happen to think you’re pretty bloody cool, too. You wear cool boots and make everyone like you the second they meet you. Bloody hell, I think James is ready to marry you and we’ve just met you yesterday.” 

“Oh, please.” 

“No, I’m serious! You’re hot, I saw at least three girls checking you out last night. Anyway, I’m just _saying_ , I think you’re wasting away potential as a member of the eyeliner-wearing community.” 

_Sirius Black has just called me hot_ , Remus panicked. _Life is indeed, not real._

Remus laughed slightly in spite of himself, covering his face sheepishly in his hands to avoid the blush adorning his cheeks. 

“Don’t be embarrassed!,” Sirius said genuinely. “Here, let me put a little on you, yeah? If it’s really that ridiculous, you can take it off but I think you’ll agree with me.”

Remus almost thought about saying no, but the look of pure anticipation on Sirius’ face made it impossibly difficult. 

“Fine. But not too thick,” he said, going to meet Sirius at the mirror. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

As Sirius worked carefully, Remus couldn’t help but notice how close they were. He could feel Sirius’ breath on his own; it smelled of mint and cigarettes. Sirius’ hands on his face; they felt soft and cohesively calloused from his guitar strings. Remus’ eyes were closed, so he couldn’t look Sirius in the eye ** _—_** but if he had, he would have seen that Sirius’ pupils were blown, lips parted in pure adornment.

“Okay, all done,” Sirius said in barely a whisper, reluctant to loose the accidentally-intimate contact he hadn’t seemed to have felt genuinely in years. 

They both turned to face the mirror, Remus observing himself timidly. He smiled tightly, trying to come to terms with the fact that he actually found himself to look quite good. 

“Do I look ridiculous?,” he asked on instinct. 

“Not at all,” Sirius said in an instant. 

Just then, a bang interrupted on the door, revealing James in a splendid, epitomized glam-rock ensemble. Remus could have sworn that Lily’s lipstick stained his cheek ever-so-slightly.

“Hey, mate, we’ve better get ready to go out now, yeah? Hey, cool eyes, Lupin. You should wear liner more often.”

And with that, he shuffled off with his lovely enthusiasm. Sirius readied himself to follow behind, but stopped briefly and pressed a hand to Remus’ shoulder. 

“You don’t look ridiculous at all, Remus. You look bloody divine.” 


	4. remus lupin, sirius black & the continental hyatt hotel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> revelations are made at the The Marauder’s post-gig party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thank u for reading :)) 
> 
> i’m going to try to update a tad more frequently, hopefully around three times a week if i can. enjoy!!
> 
> P.S.—i ended up writing this chapter a lot more tender and emotional than i had intended, just bare with me on that :) 
> 
> for reference: 
> 
> -Salems: a cigarette brand popular in the ‘70s.   
> -the song Sirius and Remus sing is the same song from the prologue, “America” by Simon and Garfunkel.

_You look bloody divine._

Those were the last miraculous words that Remus heard come out of Sirius’ mouth before he’d gone on to perform for a crowd of thousands.

It seemed wild, truly, how quickly Remus had gone from being a doting fan and writer to a sudden friend of The Marauders. Even more impressive, he didn’t even feel much like he was in the way. Remus had, for his entire life, accustomed himself to believe that he wasn’t welcome to waltz into social circles freely—which is probably why his were always so small. He never wanted to linger in places he wasn’t welcome, and tended to possess the belief that he wasn’t welcome very many places, hence his oftentimes unnecessary aloofness in the presence of potential friendships. With The Marauders (and of course Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas,) Remus never felt out of place. Somehow, he’d found a sudden burst of self-assuredness, all in the presence of potential rockstars. 

Needless to say, Remus’ presence at the party in room 228 of the Continental Hyatt Hotel was a joy. He’d been welcomed openly by almost every guest (albeit they were all slightly drunk), and Mary was kind enough to waltz around with him for a bit while he got accustomed to the cigarette stench and general noise level of the room.

“Remus, I say this with full confidence,” Marlene started, slightly slurring her words “that I’ve never had a group of people like someone so much at first meet like the boys do with you. And considering your job? You’re a magician, Remus Lupin.” 

Remus didn’t even care to hide his blush, with the little alcohol in his system diminishing his humility. 

“My job? How do you mean?” 

“Well, you know the rep music writers get. Especially the fuckers at Rolling Stone, they tear a band to pieces and leave them with nothing.” 

Remus considered that for a moment. He wasn’t a fool, and so he’d certainly heard of some of the guys at Rolling Stone without any heart to give in their reviews. Still, he’d never been much of a harsh critic himself, so he’d always assumed the menaces at other magazines made up a minority of writers like him. But perhaps that was Remus’ optimism thinking. 

“Oh, yeah, I suppose so. I don’t see the point in writing a story if you already hate the group going on. It just makes you biased, anyway. Might as well write about bands you like if you can help it."

Mary, who had been listening politely beside the two nodded in agreement. “I knew I liked you stories for a reason, Lupin.” 

Taking a long drag from her cigarette, Marlene nodded finitely. “Alright, I’ll see you guys in a bit. I’ve got to find Dorcas before she does a line and sleeps with someone she’ll regret.” And then she was off to the other side of the penthouse suite. 

Eyeing Remus knowingly, Mary smiled softly. “I think Marlene fancies her, but don’t tell her I said that.” 

“You know, it does seem a bit like that,” Remus replied with a concurring grin. “I didn’t want to ask about it in case not. You know how people are.” 

“Oh, don’t I,” Mary said with a sigh. “Say, Remus, were you wearing that eyeliner before you got to the Roxy today? I’m just noticing. Looks nice on you.” 

Remus, once again, found that a pink tint was disrupting his causal demeanor. 

“Oh, uh no. Sirius convinced me to let him put some on before the show started.” 

Raising her eyebrow suggestively, Mary looked quite pleased at Remus’ explanation.

Truthfully, Sirius and Mary had engaged in a brief fling last summer, but it didn’t last long—not because either Mary or Sirius wasn’t lovely as they were, but because Sirius was simply not interested in girls. He hadn’t realized it at the time, and was perhaps mistaking friendship for love in the name of persevering his self-realization. Mary, ever kind and understanding, wasn’t horribly offended and was also consequently the first person to know that Sirius was gay. 

And so, with a still-strong bond of platonic adoration and secrecy, Mary Macdonald always kept an eye out for Sirius Black—and hoped that he would soon find somebody that he could fall in love with for real. 

“Oh, well that’s Sirius for you, always lots of fun. Have you two gotten close?,” she meddled sweetly. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, he’s great, you know. We’ve talked a bit, you know. And uh, yeah I don’t know if—.” 

Detecting his horrid sense of subtly where romance was involved, Remus simply cut himself off in self-preservation. 

Giggling harmlessly at his flustered spirit, Mary’s eyes filled with sympathy. “It’s okay if you fancy him, Remus. I won’t tell. And you didn’t hear this from me, but I think you’re somebody he’d really like.” 

“Oh, you mean he’s—"

“Well, yes. But not _just_ that, I don’t categorize all gay people in the same category, Remus, who do you think I am? I just mean that you’re obviously very smart, and Sirius is always mesmerized by intelligence, it’s ridiculous. And you’re a writer, which is lovely, and Sirius is far more poetic than he lets on, what with all those songs he writes. Anyway, I just think he’d like you.” 

If Remus wasn’t blushing before, his cheeks were dead crimson now. The idea that somebody like Sirius Black would find him interesting didn’t seem real. But much like all of the other crazy things that had happened to him within the last few days, Remus decided to let himself believe in this fairytale world, just for a little while. 

“Oh, well that’s—that’s nice,” he said, stuttering slightly over his words like a schoolboy in love. 

“Yes, nice indeed,” she replied ominously. “Now, I think maybe you should go _talk_ to him. Look, he’s over there talking to James, Peter, and Lily. You know them, so it won’t be at all awkward. I’ll come with, too.” 

Nodding slightly, Remus rubbed his hands onto his brown corduroys in an attempt to wipe away any last nerves he might have about approaching a situation like this one. As he waltzed over to the group's corner with Mary, he suddenly remembered why he was here. _Work_. He was supposed to be writing an article that was due tomorrow, and Remus was surely breaking the one rule that Moody had tied him to. 

_Don’t make friends with them._

Remus could see why someone with a less hedonistic mindset as him might think that. It was intoxicating. The atmosphere, the music, the people. Everything was like being drunk, except you never got hungover and the only side effects you could possibly endure was that of missing the feeling of steady bass once you’d left. Remus himself certainly didn’t feel like escaping now that he’d found this community of fun. 

But he had an article to write. _Work, work, work,_ he reminded himself. 

“Hi boys and Lily,” Mary started graciously, sensing that Remus was not a conversation-starting kind of guy. 

“Remus, Mary! Sirius was just asking where you two had run off to,” James replied with a smile, like he knew something they didn’t. 

That something being that Sirius was bloody drunk, and had just been rambling on about how lovely Remus’ hair was and how much he’d like to run his fingers through it. But James Potter was indeed, a smart man, and knew better than to embarrass his friend with that kind of information. 

“Oh, we’ve been around,” Mary offered, gesturing her hands aimlessly. 

Lily took a brief sip from her cup, and squinted her eyes in an attempt to get a better look at Remus’ slightly-fading makeup. 

“Say, Remus, that eyeliner looks bloody lovely on you. Was it on before you got here? I don’t remember seeing you in it.” 

_Why the bloody hell does everyone care about my eyeliner so much?_ Remus thought, frankly just embarrassed that he was receiving so much positive attention. 

Remus’ makeup artist of just a few hours ago smiled widely then, offering the most Sirius Black look of pride he’d ever seen. 

“Well you lot can thank _me_ for that, I’m the one who put it on. How come you never complimented _my_ eyeliner?,” he joked, intoxication very obviously present but harmlessly endearing. 

Simply shaking his head, Peter stifled out a laugh. 

“Because mate, you’re always wearing it. And I’m not giving you another thing to get to your head, Mr. Front Man.” 

They all laughed at that, because truly, Peter was right. Nobody had the shameless confidence that Sirius did. But that was the thing about his tenacious attitude. It was something you _could_ laugh at, because it wasn’t at all off-putting. It was just one of Sirius’ many traits that came packed in the lovely box of his sense of self. 

“Say, Remus,” James said curiously. “Aren’t you supposed to write an article on us by tomorrow? I’m sorry we’re so hard to catch a free minute, you’ve been waiting to interview us for bloody ages.” 

The mere fact that James Potter had, indeed, seemed to be far more responsible about Remus’ own job was both a concerning indication that Remus was not currently taking life very seriously, and an adoring indication of James’ character as a friend. He’d been reminding Sirius of his upcoming dentist appointments for ages, anyway. 

“Yeah, it’s alright mate, you guys are busy. I might ask for an extension or something, say I got some good stuff and it’ll take me longer to write than I thought.” 

Just then, Sirius, in his lack of sobriety, seemed to have a fantastic idea. 

“Hey, what if you _do_ get extra good stuff? How do you feel about traveling with us for a week or so? I promise I’ll give you better god-damned interview ever, and you’d get to hang with us more. Maybe I’ll persuade you into some leather pants or something.” 

Remus wasn’t sure how good of an idea that was, merely based on his lack of hesitation to say _yes_ at the original query. He was certain, even on this fateful day, that he’d follow Sirius Black anywhere he went if asked. 

“Yeah! It’s always fun having more people around that we actually _like_. The girls will take good care of you, and this way you’ll get extra time to make us look good,” James agreed, always eager to have a friendly face on tour. 

Lily smiled gently at Remus, providing him with a level of comfort that she somehow knew he needed to go on. 

“Yeah, and if you get at all bored or tired of these bloody idiots, you can run some errands with me. I’ve always got some meeting with a producer and it’s nice to have some company. And you’re a boy, so none of those perverted music execs will try anything.” 

It was odd, the way Lily had mentioned that last part—as if it happened all the time. James seemed to notice too, eyes glossing over in intense, unwavering concern. Concern, really, that could only be brought about by love. 

“Does that happen a lot, Lils? Why didn’t you say anything? I would have come with you, you know I don’t mind,” he said, jovial tone completely faded away. 

“Yeah,” Peter and Sirius echoed. “We’ll kill ‘em.” 

“I can handle myself very well, Potter,” Lily retorted, clearly reluctant to admit that his sentiment had reminded her heart that she loved him, regardless of what her head was doing. 

“Well of course. I know that, you just shouldn’t _have_ to deal with it alone,” James finished, quieter this time. 

Eager to diffuse the tension and bloody good at it, Mary cleared her throat slightly. 

“Right, well, it’s settled then. Remus will come join us for a bit, and me, Marlene, and Dorcas promise to make sure he makes it back to his Santa Monica residence alive.” 

“To Remus, our newest roadie,” Peter agreed, lifting his glass of champagne. 

“To Remus!,” the others concurred.

And perhaps he was imagining it, but Remus could have sworn he saw Sirius Black wink at him. 

❁❁❁

An hour or so had passed, and it was clear Sirius had eased up on the drinking once Remus had come around. Even in his drunken state, he was privy enough of his obnoxiousness to sober up around a boy he fancied. 

“Anyone fancy a trip to the liquor store? I’m all out of cigarettes,” he asked to nobody in particular—but hoping Remus might say yes. 

“Sure.” 

He did.

It was quite cold out, but neither Sirius or Remus seemed to mind all that much. They walked in tandem, close enough that their shoulders bumped occasionally. They had rationalized it, perhaps, as a way to stay warm, but it was clear that they wouldn’t have altered their position if it was 100 degrees out.

Suddenly, Remus began to hum a tune to fill the comfortable silence, one that Sirius knew well. 

“Oh, I love that song,” Sirius said, immediately recognizing the melody he’d grown to love. 

“What?"

Remus hadn’t even noticed he’d been humming, frankly, and was vaguely surprised to hear that Sirius had an affinity for Simon and Garfunkel. 

_"Kathy, I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh, Michigan seems like a dream to me now_ ,” Sirius sang back to him. “That’s what you were humming, right? I bloody love that whole album.”

Sirius’ voice was bewitching, truly, with its unique softness combined with an effortless rasp. Remus couldn’t help the butterflies floating throughout his chest, cheeks heating for at least the fifth time this evening. It was hard to say why Remus was blushing. Sirius hadn’t even _said_ anything to him, but there was just something about his lovely voice and his friendly smile and his mysterious eyes and— 

_Remus felt like he was floating._

“Oh, yes. I hadn’t even noticed I was humming, I guess. I remember when Bookends came out, I was, what? 16? I listened to it every day and my mother used to say that if I listened to it too much at once I’d get tired of it but I never did, I guess. It helps me fall asleep sometimes.” 

He was suddenly worried that he’d said too much. Their conversations, he realized, hadn’t even extended this far. And based on Sirius’ expression, he’d assumed that made him uncomfortable.

“Jesus, sorry, you don’t need to know about how I fall asleep at night, sorry, I don’t mean to overshare.” 

Sirius’ eyes widened at that, suddenly realizing that his looked of wistful adornment could have very well been interpreted as bother.

“No! No, don’t say sorry, you didn’t overshare. I was just thinking of how interesting that is to hear because I literally cannot fall asleep without that record playing somewhere.”

And with that comment, Sirius offered out an impossibly generous smile, one that Remus returned without even having to think about it. 

There was something that changed just then. Perhaps they could blame it on the alcohol they’d been consuming or the heinously late hour, but there was a look in Sirius and Remus’ eyes that neither of them were sage enough to take for face value. 

_I want to bloody kiss you_ , their eyes said.

Sirius hadn’t felt this way about someone in a very long time. So much so, in fact, that he’d forgotten what it was like. That lended him no favors, unfortunately, because without any concrete memory of falling in love in its most honest form, Sirius didn’t know what to do—and he didn’t know how to spot it. So despite the longing on Remus’ face, the look of pure adoration in his eyes, and the unmistakable way that they’d both inched closer to each other, Sirius played it safe. 

“Well, I suppose we’d better get over there before the store closes. I forget how quickly it gets late after shows.” 

“Right.” 

Remus tried not to be disappointed, because he hadn’t _expected_ anything, really. But sometimes trying wasn’t enough, especially when the person beside you seemed to be the only one you’d want to kiss for a very long time. 

Three packs of Salems and one chilly walk back to the Hyatt later, it seemed that James had been making sleeping arrangements for Remus.

“Remus, you’re not going to call a cab home at this hour. You’ll stay at the hotel tonight, and then we’ll drive you back to your apartment tomorrow to back a bag for touring. That way you can call your editor, too. We don’t even have a show tomorrow, so maybe you can show us around your town, too, if you’d like. I haven’t seen as much of LA as I would have liked to yet.” 

Remus tried to protest briefly, insisting that he didn’t want to intrude on their space, but secretly was glad to be in the company of others. He’d lived alone since graduation, and as much as he enjoyed solitude, Remus began to remember how much he loved the feeling of being surrounded by other people. He hadn’t quite realized how much he’d missed looking around and seeing that love and friendship did, in fact, have a place for him. 

“Don’t make any nonsense comments about intruding anymore,” Lily added before James concluded, “Yeah, you’re one of us now, mate.” 

And it took everything in Remus’ soul not to shed a tear. 

The sleeping arrangements in question almost seemed, truthfully, as if they had been decided by Miss Matchmaking Mary Macdonald. Lily and James, for some unexplainable reason, had decided to share a room ( _because they needed to chat about something anyway, apparently.)_ Marlene and Dorcas would share the adjoining room, and Peter and Mary would share another (Mary had a crush on Peter, although she’d never admit to falling for the shy type). That left Sirius and Remus, whom Mary insisted should share a room because “Sirius’ balcony has got the best view of the city, and Remus deserved the best.” 

What she hadn’t mentioned was that there was only one bloody bed. And Remus didn’t even have any pajamas. 

“You can borrow a t-shirt of mine, if you’d like,” Sirius offered once they were in his room. 

Remus accepted gratefully. Sirius, with no humility or self-consciousness, had stripped off his shirt right in front of Remus, and changed without hesitation. It was a confidence and casualty like his that Remus had always admired and struggled to obtain. Truthfully, he’d accumulated some scars on his chest from an accident involving a drunk driver and his Camaro, and he didn’t like the idea that his body alone could be unsettling to look at. Remus assumed that everyone would regard his scars just as cruelly as he did, and chose to avoid that confrontation all together. 

He, of course, underestimated how bloody lovely Sirius thought Remus was.

Lingering awkwardly towards the bathroom, Remus cleared his throat meekly. 

“I’m gonna change in here if—"

“Oh, you don’t have to, if you don’t want. Of course you can if you’d rather, but you know, don’t do it on my account. I’ve seen it all, trust me. James has me pop pimples on his back for no good reason at 3 in the morning, it’s bloody ridiculous.” 

Remus sighed softly, hoping to avoid this very conversation. 

“No, it’s fine. I just, uh—well, I’ve got these scars or whatever, sometimes they make people uncomfortable, and I don’t wanna make you—“ 

Sirius scoffed simply at that, finding the thought that people would be uncomfortable by anything Remus Lupin did ridiculous, and synchronously hiding how sad it made him that Remus probably didn’t find himself as beautiful as Sirius did. 

“Oh, Lupin, that’s nothing to me. Let’s see ‘em.” 

Remus was surprised, briefly, but he supposed that shock must have been a placebo. Because in the brief period of time that he’d gotten to know Sirius Black, Remus had discovered that there was not a judgmental bone in his body. 

“Well, alright, then.” 

Slowly, Remus unbuttoned the top he’d been wearing all evening, which now reeked of cigarettes and liquor. He had just meant to change, but suddenly realized that now Sirius was _waiting_ for something, waiting to see the scars he’d mentioned—and now everything felt slightly more intimate.

Remus blushed again. 

Once the shirt had been completely pulled off, Remus fiddled with the t-shirt Sirius had loaned him, folding it right-side out. He’d tried to avoid Sirius’ gaze, but it appeared that the boy had slowly drifted closer to his spot near the bathroom door. After a moment, Sirius slowed his movements, as if he was asking for permission to be near him, as if he _knew_ that there was something slightly amorous about their current position. 

Remus just glanced up at him, consenting the boy to continue towards him. As Sirius approached, Remus recognized the faint scent of mint and cigarettes. He inhaled a hushed breath. 

“Remus,” Sirius whispered, guitar string-calloused fingers just barely grazing the outline of Remus’ scars.

He’d never, Remus realized, been regarded like this before in his life. Never been touched in a way that was simply tender and kind and asked for nothing in return. 

“Does it freak you out a little?,” he asked, although he wasn’t sure why.

Sirius huffed dully, curling his lips up just barely at a question he was heartbroken to realize Remus even thought to ask. 

“Not at all,” he assured. “I think they’re beautiful.” 

Without calculating his glances, now, Remus looked up at Sirius, and was bordering the edge of tears. His eyes were glossed over, and he knew that Sirius could tell. Brushing a thumb over Remus’ soft, blushed cheek, Sirius encouraged him to do what he could tell hadn’t been properly done in a long time. Cry. 

Remus let himself go then, let himself blink just hard enough for the salty tears to dance down his cheek. Except it didn’t feel awful or humiliating like he always thought crying would—he felt relieved, and he felt safe. 

Without really thinking of the implications behind his actions, Sirius began to leave feather-light kisses onto each tear that rolled down Remus’ face, offering soft words of reassurance that he could only assume Remus hadn’t heard in far too long. 

After a minute or two, Remus fully grasped the fervency of this situation. Sirius Black was kissing tears off his face. He was crying in front of Sirius Black. He had known Sirius Black _two bloody days—_ and he suddenly felt embarrassed again. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, sniffling slightly as he pushed himself away from Sirius. 

Sirius, determined to wash away whatever sense of self-doubt Remus had been so cruelly fed, followed him. 

“No, Remus. Don’t apologize, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

“It’s embarrassing. I’ve known you two days, this is—I shouldn’t be burdening you with shit like this. I swear I’m not usually so dramatic.” 

Remus realized then that he wasn’t simply embarrassed to have cried; he was afraid that after the evening ended, he wouldn’t have friends. He wouldn’t have friends because he was a goddamned drama queen and cried in people’s hotel rooms. 

“It’s not embarrassing,” Sirius said firmly. “And you’re not burdening me. I like having you around. I did three hours ago and I do now. You don’t have to do that with me, you know. I know we haven’t know each other very long but I’m—well I know what it’s like to be told things about yourself that probably aren’t true but make your feel bad forever. I can only imagine what people have said to make you think that those bloody cool scars on your chest are disquieting.” 

Remus could only assume that Sirius was referring to his own family, who James had mentioned briefly was a non-starter in conversations. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know that—“ 

“No, no. I’m not saying that to talk about _me_ , although I know I do that a lot,” he says, chuckling slightly. “Just, don’t ever be embarrassed of yourself, because I think you’re bloody lovely, Remus.” 

And without another word, Sirius kissed him, on the lips this time. Remus felt as if time had stopped, the world had come to a beautiful screeching halt, and suddenly it was just him and Sirius and there was nothing in the goddamned world that could ruin this.

Their lips collided gently, hands placed seamlessly as if they were meant to be on each other. It felt like they’d done it a million times before in the sense that it was astonishingly natural, and yet it felt like the first time because there was nothing in this world that set either of their chests on fire like this did. 

Suddenly, Sirius remembered what was so wonderful about liking people and letting them like you back. 

They pulled apart reluctantly, and Remus smiled softly at Sirius before placing a final kiss onto his forehead. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I walked you to your car yesterday.” 

“Me too.” 

Comfortably, they climbed into Sirius’ bed, quietly but poignantly thinking about how cinematic it seemed that something like this was even happening. Sirius pulled the sheets over the two of them, and allowed himself to scoot his back closer to Remus’ front. In response, Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ torso, sending a sudden burst of warmth through their bodies. 

“Is this okay?,” he asked quietly. 

“Always, this is always going to be okay,” Sirius replied. 

Just as the pair was set on sleep, Remus let out an abrupt laugh. 

“What?,” Sirius said, matching Remus’ laughter simply because it made him smile. 

“We’ve known each other for two god-damned days. How the fuck did this happen?” 

Tilting his head to face Remus, Sirius raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, you shouldn’t have looked so good in that eyeliner and started singing Simon and Garfunkel. Maybe then there wouldn’t be a problem.”

Remus snorted, shaking his head in mock annoyance and private flattery. He truly couldn’t remember the last time someone had complimented him like this, so unselfishly. 

“Goodnight, Sirius.” 

“Goodnight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HIT U WITH THE THERES ONLY ONE BED TROPE I HAD TO DO IT IM SORRY LOL.


	5. the marauders & the filmore.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remus' journey with the marauders continues with their next stop on tour—San Francisco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference: 
> 
> the filmore: a lovely music venue in San Francisco. 
> 
> palos verdes: a hilly, affluent city in the South Bay, which is a mostly suburban area in Southern California. 
> 
> rolling hills: a sub-section of Palos Verdes. 
> 
> mon trésor: a French term of endearment meaning “my treasure” :) 
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy the big dash of jily i’ve sprinkled into this chapter :) there is going to be quite a bit of drama and angst coming up, so i wanted to spoil you all with something light beforehand! i really do appreciate all the nice comments you’ve left, i am so accustomed to writing for just myself that any feedback is such a lovely treat<3 
> 
> xoxo

Before Remus knew it, he was in San Francisco on a Tuesday evening, watching a beautifully bloody orange sunset. It had been hard work getting Moody to provide him with an extension for his story, and even harder work convincing him that he wasn’t having too much fun. 

_“Lupin, you’d better not be sleeping with a god-damned groupie or something. I’m expecting this story to be perfect."_

_“Trust me, I’m not sleeping with any groupies.”_

In the days following Remus and Sirius’ intimate Sunday evening encounter, their relationship had shifted ** _—_** _although, Remus thought begrudgingly, you’d never even notice._

It wasn’t that they had been ignoring each other. No, how _could_ they ignore each other? There was simply not enough privacy on an invigorating tour like this one. But Sirius and Remus, against their better judgement, didn’t expect much out of the other. Remus was certain, despite the fact that they had been secretly snogging every night, that Sirius had no interest in developing a relationship with him. And Sirius, in a simple yet melancholic swap of personalities, thought Remus could do much better than his chaos. 

The issue with their relationship was how quickly Sirius had fallen for him, he supposed. Because when he thought about Remus ** _—_** sandy hair and kind smile and long legs ** _—_** he didn’t just think about stolen kisses, or a week-long, ever-so-secret rock and roll tryst (although he did very much think about kissing Remus.) 

He thought about what it might be like to really _be_ with him. Settle down in an airy apartment in Palos Verdes, get a dog, listen to folk records on lazy Sunday mornings. But Sirius hadn’t known Remus all that long, and didn’t seem to think that he would feel as fervently as he did ** _—_** and perhaps more heartbreaking, believed that Remus could do far better than to wait for Sirius to finishing living out his rockstar dream life. 

He was wrong, of course. Because Sirius Black, when he was twelve years old and now at twenty-one, still couldn’t quite grasp onto the fact that there were people in this world that loved him ** _—_** and would take him exactly as he was.

Remus, on an opposing yet paralleled front, simply thought Sirius was interested in nothing _but_ casualty. He was embarrassed to admit that he’d give that to him, regardless of how much it broke his heart. If only he had known how the midnight-eyed mystery really felt; perhaps, then, it was hurt a little less ** _—_** but he didn’t, and so, it didn’t. 

So Sirius and Remus’ affinities of love remained private to both each other and their friends. They were almost more vulnerable this way, really, because in the privacy of closed doors, there was little to abort their fortuitous confessions. 

_“Say Remus, what might you do if a band asked you to go on an entire national tour with them? Take some photos, meet other bands and writes stories on them. Would you do that?"_

Sirius had asked this suggestively specific question one night after a show in San Jose. Remus had been seated on the large hotel mattress, Sirius straddled over his lap making another attempt at giving Remus Bowie-like eyeshadow. They teetered between adding a light blue to Remus’ lids and Remus’ lips adding encouraging kisses to Sirius’ in between strokes. 

_“Well, that depends. Who’s asking?"_

_“David Bowie.”_

_“No."_

_“No?"_

_"No. Because then you won’t be able to do my eyeliner anymore and he’ll just upstage me."_

_Sirius smiled lightly._

_“Okay, well then, what if I was asking? Me, on behalf of the Marauders.”_

_Remus pretended to ponder a question he was humiliated to admit he’d been waiting for since they’d arrived at the hotel._

_“Then I think I’d say yes.”_

And that was how Remus had ended up convincing Alastor Moody, well-meaning hard ass and ruthless grammatical stickler, to let him come back to the Santa Monica office in two months with 10,000 words on The Marauders. It was an impossible conversation, but then, all of the instances currently occurring in Remus’ life seemed to have been impossible a month ago. He had felt a vague sense of guilt in his semi-fibbed pursuit for an extra long story ** _—_** it wasn’t as if he was really _lying_ , per say. He did love writing, and was thrilled to be gifted the power of his own opinion being in the magazine. In fact, in the midst of this beautiful chaos Remus had come to love in a short week, he cognized just how much he was missing out on being cooped up in his apartment all these years. His twenties were for developing a career, yes ** _—_** but they were also for having fun and listening to music and making friends and falling in love and ** _—_**

Not that Remus was falling in love, or at least, not that he was poor at _convincing_ himself he wasn’t in love. This was another thing Sirius Black made so bloody difficult. Still, he had technically lied to his editor about why he was in need of this lengthy extension; it wasn’t that he had just such a lovely piece of prose that required extra care. It was that Remus had _nothing_ , and he figured Moody would not be fond of 1,000 words on how Sirius Black’s eyes told a thousand more stories than his words did. Poetic, yes. Unnecessary, yes as well. 

Each night, Remus thought with wonder, was better than the last. He’d spent some of his afternoons running errands with Lily, who he’d expectedly grown quite close with. She was just as kind and witty and fierce as he’d assumed, but she also held a certain quality of demure that Remus hadn’t noticed before. The only reason he’d come to recognize it, really, was because Lily had always seemed to go quiet at the mention of James. Not an agitated quiet, or an embarrassed one, just a privately intimate quiet ** _—_** an intimate quiet which indicated that her love for the glasses-clad brunette was so special and enchanting that she didn’t want to share it with anyone. 

Remus could understand how she felt. 

_“Say, Lily, I don’t mean to pry, but I was just wondering if you and James might be dating or something? I just noticed you two were close and never thought to ask."_

He’d asked the question out of genuine curiosity, but also in a futile attempt to distract himself from the thoughts he couldn’t quite shake from his own psyche. _Sirius Black does not want a relationship,_ Remus had to convince himself. _He’s a rockstar. He doesn’t have the time or the desire for such a thing._ If Remus had known how truly wrong he was, it might be funny. But for now, it was just sorrowful, because Sirius Black wanted nothing more than a relationship with Remus Lupin, and Remus wanted nothing more than to make him happy, which was the same thing. They were incredibly close to peace and yet so far away from its journey. 

_“Oh, Remus, I—you’re not prying. Yes, we are, but don’t say anything to the others yet if you can help it. We don’t want to ruin the group dynamic."_

She had said it so cerebrally that Remus’ unobserved amorous personality was almost dissatisfied with her answer, even if it had indicated that she was in love. 

_“Do you love him?,” he asked with a warm, astute smile._

Her cheeks tinted pink ferociously. 

_“More than I know what to do with.”_

Remus grinned widely, then, warmth pervading his chest in empathetic joy. He wondered if he might react similarly given somebody asking him the same question about Sirius.

❁❁❁

**_It was the evening before The Marauders’ show in which Remus, had indeed, been asked that very question._ **

He had been in Sirius’ dressing room, and although The Marauders had never noticed Sirius’ door remaining closed more frequently, they had been far too busy with their own pre-show rituals to even think of checking on the reason for it to begin with. 

Remus was seated on the long wood desk, which was attached to and stretched the length of the room and its adjoined mirror. Sirius was placing feather-light kisses down his neck, traveling further to the area on his chest and stomach that were home to his light scars. Remus pulled ever-so-gently at Sirius’ hair, which was only aggressive enough to emit a soft noise from Sirius’ throat as he traveled back up to meet Remus’ lips. 

Remus kissed him, then and the space between their bodies was gone completely. Their noses brushed kindly and Sirius went to grip at Remus’ shoulder. Just as their tender exchange seemed to convey dreamy and solicitously intimacy, Sirius had failed to restrain his own sentiments.

“Re, you’re so—,” he said between kisses. “I think that I lo-“ 

Before he could finish, the dressing room door swung open without warning. James was practically Sirius’ brother, and he never felt any reason to knock. 

“Okay, Padfoot, we’ve gotta get going if _—oh, shit._ I’m so sorry, I’ll just be, uh yeah. Okay, I’ll see you guys out there in a second.” 

Sirius was, truthfully, thankful for James’ interruption. He had found himself in dangerous territory, far too close to admitting something he thought Remus had no interest in hearing. 

Remus, on the blazing contrary, could practically feel Sirius’ words on his own lips, and wanted nothing more than to hear him finish his own thought. The wide look in his eye accounted for the doubtless certainty that if Sirius had, indeed, meant to say that he loved him, Remus would have said it back without any hesitation. 

_But that’s not what he could have possibly meant to say,_ Remus argued to himself. _He’s known me for three goddamned weeks and there’s no way that I am at all interesting enough for him to have suddenly fallen in love with me in that time._

But Remus underestimated how hard Sirius loved, and he even more grossly underestimated his own loveliness. 

In a desperate attempt to recover from the defeaning silence in the dressing room, Remus cleared his throat. 

“Well, I’ll see you out there from the wings. Have fun.” 

He didn’t even think to wish Sirius good luck, because Sirius was so talented and naturally enigmatic that it seemed silly to think he needed it.

“Yeah, alright, see you after,” Sirius replied quickly. 

And with that, he was out the door. 

The show, as expected, was another phenomenal representation of how lovely music could be when the right people were allowed access to it. There was something about the crowd that evening—perhaps that was thanks to the venue, which was decorated with campy chandeliers, and encouraged its audience to experience the show in close quarters. Remus was privy to the way people looked at Sirius, then. A cluster fuck of twenty-somethings that looked at his dark hair, androgynously glorious style, effortless talent, and saw everything that they wanted to be. He was the ‘70s. He was rock and roll. And he knew it. 

Remus himself thought that there weren’t many things about Sirius that you didn’t simply love because it belonged to his personage. 

“They're really good, aren’t they?,” Marlene asked from beside Remus backstage. 

“Yeah."

His short response was less out of indifference but speechless adoration. 

“So, how long have you been snogging Sirius, then?” 

Remus choked on his own breath. “Sorry?"

“Oh, please, it’s so obvious Re! It’s quite cute, really. I haven’t seen Sirius this happy in years.” 

Remus blushed in furious endearment _—_ not only that he had, apparently, made Sirius noticeably happier, but also that he’d gotten close enough to a group of people that a nickname rolled off Marlene’s tongue with such ease. 

“Did James tell you?"

“No, me and Mary have been betting on how long it would take you two to finally get together since we met you. It was quite obvious he fancied you from the start, really. _Oh, Remus, I looooooove your boots, you must tell me where you got them. Maybe you’ll take me to the store and then we can snog in your car. You’re soooooo lovely.”_

Remus shoved her playfully, grateful that the mere nature of his relationship with Sirius was nothing but a fact to Marlene and the others. His old friends back in the small town he’d grown up in weren’t as welcome to the idea of him being queer. Or anyone, for that matter. 

“Well, I’m not really sure it’s anything much, yet. I want to settle down sometime soon, maybe get a dog or something. This is tour stuff is all lovely, but I’m just slightly too reserved to make it forever. And I think Sirius has a bit of a different idea, which is just fine, of course, but I don’t want to burden him with the question of commitment.” 

He hadn’t quite meant to open up so much, but the liberation of having companions to confide in was an exhilarating feeling Remus would not take for granted. 

“Hm,” Marlene replied, pensively. “Well, I don’t know Sirius as well as James or Pete do, but I do know that Sirius is a little more fond of settling down than you might think. He talks about getting a house with a garden in Rolling Hills all the time. Sounds pretty settle-down-ish to me. Sorry, I don’t mean to be so nosy, I just can’t help it, it’s the way I am. I just think you two look so lovely together and it would be a shame to see you miss an opportunity because of a communication issue.” 

Remus quickly realized that Marlene Mckinnon, who was bubbly as any and dressed with feverish effervescence, held far more wisdom than he had perhaps given her credit for. And so, on this arbitrary Tuesday evening that would have typically involved ordering pizza alone in his apartment, Remus was eternally beholden to have found friends he felt would never let him go.

“Thanks, Marls."

“It’s what I’m here for. Mary always needs a similar pep talk where Peter is involved.” 

And with that she was off to find Dorcas with a blush. 

❁❁❁

“Oi, Remus, come here a minute, will you?,” James said after the show had ended and the crowd finally dispersed. 

Nervously, Remus treaded over to the boy’s casual spot near his amplifier. Everyone else had filtered to their dressing rooms. It wasn’t that James made Remus at all uncomfortable, but he knew that Sirius was practically his brother, and assumed he was in for some sort of lecture. 

“Enjoy the show?,” James started. 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are always bloody good.” 

He nodded thankfully, still slightly bashful when compliments surrounding the band were involved. James Potter was far more accustomed to compliments when he was in school _—_ on his grades, rugby accomplishments, internships _—_ all things that were deemed appropriate for a boy of his age and status. But music was different; James was certain that without the liberal love and support from Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, he would be preparing for an accounting job right now. 

“Cheers, mate. Well, I just wanted to say that I know I saw you and Sirius earlier, and I just want you to know that I don’t have a problem with it or anything. I know it’s hard to balance relationships with people you’re working with or for or whatever, _technically_. But I think you’ll be alright. Sirius bloody adores you.” 

Remus couldn’t think of much to say at that, James’ unabashed and unselfish kindness. He was so used to generosity and compliments proceeding favors with the industry he worked in. 

“Well, thanks, James. I promise I won’t mess up your group dynamic or anything. He’s a Marauder first, I know,” he said with a twinge of humor. 

“I know, Re, don’t stress about it...Do you love him? Sorry, I’m his best mate, I’ve got to ask.” 

Remus didn’t think he was quite sure of his answer until the words were pouring out. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

"Well, good. Listen, you didn’t hear this from me, but I think he feels the same. He’s just been so much brighter lately."

James paused briefly, as if he was working up the courage to mention something else entirely. 

"I _—_ uh, also wanted to ask you something. Has Lily, you know, ever mentioned anything about me to you, by chance? On your errands or anything? I feel embarrassed for even mentioning it. I’m just _—_ I’m mad about her, mate.” 

It was such a sweet sentiment coming from James, but so dotingly unsurprising. When he loved someone, it was clear, and he had no humility in letting that show. It was why Sirius had been so quickly welcomed into his home after years of neglect.

“Well, I don’t think I’m supposed to be blabbing, but she definitely loves you a lot."

James smiled wider than Remus thought possible. All teeth and rosy cheeks and wide eyes. Remus thought he might like to help Sirius have a smile like that forever. 

As Remus retreated down to the dressing room area, he had really only meant to grab Mary before heading outside _—_ they’d developed a tradition of having a quick smoke together before post-show activities ensued. Before he could find her, he was being pulled into a different room by a familiarly tan arm. 

“Sirius, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Remus exasperated before the door shut behind them. 

“Sorry, sorry, I had to get you before you went to smoke with Mary.” 

It was so minute and seemingly inconsequential, but Remus was flattered to know that Sirius paid attention to what Remus got up to when they weren’t together. Sirius kissed him gentler than normal, then, cupping Remus’ cheeks with care as he slid his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“You guys were lovely tonight,” Remus said when the moment allowed it. 

Unembarrassed, certain, and so germane to himself, Sirius Black kissed him again.

“ _You’re_ lovely. So lovely, all the time,” he said, migrating his kisses from Remus' lips to his nose, eyelids, forehead _—_ anywhere he could reach. 

Remus, even after almost a month, was coy when it came to such unabashed affection. He wasn’t used to being made to feel beautiful, or _lovely_ , or anything else that assumed he was worthy of devotion.

Sirius knew this, and made it his life’s purpose to resurface whatever cruel fate that had led Remus to feel anything less than godly. It was the least he could do, Sirius thought, in tandem with the pious way that Remus had taken him for exactly who he was _—_ something he couldn’t always count on in the earlier years of his childhood. 

“Where’s this coming from?”, Remus said softly. 

“Nowhere. You. I just thought you should know.” 

“Oh, well, then _—_ I think you’re lovely too.” 

It wasn’t quite the same to think someone was lovely as it was to _love_ them, but right now, the two sentiments felt pretty suitably similar. 

“Thank you, mon trésor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new years everyone!! have a safe and lovely year:)


	6. the marauders & london.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the marauders, remus, and the girls take their tour from California to London—in which family matters are brought to light and a part ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry it’s been a little while, i’ve been super busy with school and such!
> 
> cw—mentions of family issues and abuse, and a brief discussion of homophobia. please be kind to yourselves and of course don’t read if you think you’ll be affected by this kind of thing.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! your comments are lovely and make my day <3 
> 
> xoxo

Despite their particularly sentimental moment in San Francisco, Remus and Sirius had not shared a moment quite as similar in piousness for a while. Touring was getting significantly heavier, with the group now traveling by plane, visiting a new state every few days. Still, Sirius and Remus made time for quick kisses and evening rendezvous-vous when time permitted.

Remus had particularly enjoyed their trip to Seattle—the gloom was strangely comforting, and music seemed to be everywhere that he looked. In fact, Washington was the only place that he’d made even minute progress on his article—which he was constantly having to remind himself _did_ exist, and _did_ indeed have a due date. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting good stuff, I swear it."

“I swear to God, Lupin, if you come back with nothing but a coke addiction, you won’t have a job."

“Yeah, understood. You won’t be disappointed, promise."

Moody had called while The Marauders, Remus, Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas were at the airport. Although they had agreed on the terms that Remus would travel with the band in order to form a more personalized article (which was now set to be on the front cover), it was clear that Moody was wary of Remus’ extended stay. There wasn’t any reason to be, of course, unless you counted making friends and lovers with a rock band as dangerous (Moody did.)

As Remus put up the land line, he was surprised to see that Sirius had sneakily slithered his body into the phone booth. He was dressed in a white blouse, three buttons undone from the top, and his hair was tousled in effortless lush atop his head. Remus sucked in a breath. 

“I hope you’re not getting into too much trouble on our account,” he started, tenderly brushing a stray strand of flaxen hair out Remus’ face.

“No, no. Any trouble I get into is my own fault. I’ve interviewed everyone I need except you. It’s just a matter of writing the story."

Sirius let out a gentle hum of understanding before leaning forward to kiss Remus firmly atop his slightly-chapped lips (constant travel could do that, sometimes.)

It was the first moment of privacy they’d gotten in quite some time, Remus and Sirius realized, then. There had been so much going on over the past month and a half that they’d barely gotten time for each other. Remus used these circumstance as a constant excuse for his own shyness in devotion, and Sirius used it just the same.

_Of course he isn’t in love with me. With life this crazy, how would he even have the time?_

Remus kissed him back, placing his hand cooly along the top of Sirius’ collarbone, which would have otherwise been covered despite the lazily sensuous arrangement of his blouse. Remus’ other hand landed softly in Sirius’ jet-black hair, allowing the boy to wrap his arm around his slim waist. 

As they pulled apart reluctantly, knowing they would soon be looked for, Remus’ cheeks flushed pink. It was his form, blushing face and parted lips, that made Sirius almost certain that now was the time.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

Before he could say anything, Remus once again repressed his chance to be adored as he should. 

“Well, we should go back, I guess. Don’t want them to start having to search for us around the terminal."

“Right."

And they exited the booth together, Remus’ hand resting kindly on Sirius’ lower back as he led them out. He too, was in the uncanny mood to confess his love. It was a wonder they hadn’t broken their logistician excuses by now. 

But, of course, Remus and Sirius were not connoisseurs of effective communication, and so some prolonged affections were left unsaid. That might have been a comforting conclusion for now, but it seemed that they were the only ones. 

Lily and Remus’ occasional drives together back in California had apparently worked to James’ advantage—because by the end of the month, Lily had openly admitted to the group that she was his girlfriend, and planned to be for a very long time. It was silly how she did it, really, so astute and clinical, but it was even more endearing how James had reacted with such muted adoration. 

_"Well, me and James are dating, and we have been for a while. Obviously this won’t affect the band, I’m too smart for that. Okay, that’s it. No questions."_

Despite her tone, a shy blush has tinted her winter-flushed cheeks—and James’ grin was unmistakable. 

Similarly, Remus’ chat with Marlene backstage in San Francisco had gotten some kind of motivation out of the girl—because she and Dorcas were now holding hands around town and showing off their blushes marked by the other’s lipstick shade.

Even Mary and Peter, who had no tenacity where relationships were involved, had seemed to be chatting more, the latter’s skinny arm resting on her thigh every so often. 

This observation, to Remus, was a desolate reminder that if Sirius Black was interested in love, he would have made it clear by now. 

Except he _had_ made it clear. Remus was just too blind by insecurity to realize it. 

Sirius, on the other hand, used his friends’ romantic endeavors as motivation; because if James Potter could get Lily Evans to fall in love with him after years of non-starters, Sirius could let the boy that enjoyed kissing him know (in the most shallow scenario), that he thought he was grand.

_Perhaps I do not deserve to love Remus Lupin, but he deserves to know that there is someone who does, anyway._

The flight to London, where the Marauders would be touring next, was quiet. Sirius had pushed away the dread for long enough, but it seemed that the gloomy air had disallowed for anymore naive ignorance. 

The Black family lived in London—an opulent mansion with a dozen rooms and only a few cruel souls to fill them. Sirius hadn’t seen his parents in years, and vowed to never force himself through the suffering of their presence ever again. He’d already found a family in the Potters, anyway.

Despite this unwavering fact, there was only one thing in the world that would crack Sirius where his family was concerned—and he had just called not thirty minutes upon their arrival.

The band had checked into their hotel rooms, thankful for the couple days of free time they were allotted before their first show came to fruition. Sirius dramatically fell back onto his bed (which was his for now, on a technicality, but would soon be accompanied by Remus’ presence), and made futile attempts at sleep. The group had agreed to meet in the hall before heading to breakfast in approximately 5 hours (which was not nearly enough time for sleep, Sirius complained.)

Just as he felt his eyes closing, a then-obnoxious ring came from the phone at Sirius’ nightstand. 

“Hello?,” he asked in a feigned groggy voice—just simply to be an asshole and let whoever was calling know that they’d woken him up. 

“Hi, Sirius.” 

Sirius’ heart stopped.

There was something so eerie and somber about hearing voices you hadn’t been accustomed to in years. 

“Reg? How did you know to call here?"

Regulus sighed on the other line. It was apparent he felt similarly to hearing his brother’s voice. 

“I had to do some digging, but I figured it out. But whatever, that doesn’t matter much now. Are you well?"

Sirius felt like he could cry. There was no feeling in the world that compared to the one he was being exposed to, now—the feeling of having missed someone so dearly but being so angry at the circumstance that you’d forgot it was possible.

“Yeah, I’m—are _you_ okay?"

Regulus did not answer immediately, which usually meant _No._

“I’m in my second year of school, now. Mum and Dad are pushing for me to get my degree a year earlier, then I can start helping with the business more, I guess."

He sounded tired, and Sirius felt entirely guilty. He knew that he had made the right decision in escaping his household, and it wasn’t as though he carried any regret in doing so. But leaving his little brother alone in that house felt criminal. 

“Do you _want_ to do that? Don’t do it just because Walburga wants you to."

Regulus sighed, then, clearly frustrated by his brother’s sometimes presumptuous audacity. There was a reason that Sirius had been the only one who was able to leave the Black home. 

“What choice do I have, Sirius?” His tone was sharp, definitive, rhetorical. “Anyway, how long will you been in town for?"

“A week, but Reg I’m not coming back to that house, I—"

Before Sirius could complete his sentence, Regulus cleared his throat quietly, all the previous agitation he had displayed suddenly gone. Suddenly, Regulus sounded like Sirius’ scared little brother. 

“I know. I was just hoping that maybe—well maybe you might want to see _me_ , at least. They won’t question me if I say I’m going out to study with someone for a bit. I’m not sure they even know you’re here.”

Sirius thought for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to see his brother, know that he was mostly unharmed and stable. But he knew that as long as Regulus was living in that house, there was little chance for that. Still, he obliged despite his own remorse. 

“Alright, yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ve got the next couple of days off before we have to start rehearsing. That alright?"

“Yes, that’s alright. Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Sirius. Goodnight."

Sirius tried not to take his coldness personally—he knew it was simply a result of their upbringing. Regardless, he wished that there was a level of comfort between him and his own brother. Comfort, like the kind he had with James. 

“Take care of yourself,” Sirius said, before hanging up.

Before he could think to control himself, tears started racing down Sirius’ cheek like they’d been tied to the start line for years. Perhaps they had. There weren’t many things in this world that Sirius couldn’t reconcile with—but the way he’d left his brother was one of them. Despite his rationality reminding him that there was nothing he could have done, it was still painful. Painful to hear Regulus’ voice so tired and weak, like he had been acting all day.

Wiping his eyes quickly at the sound of a knock, Sirius pushed himself up and out of bed to open the door.

It was Remus. All light and cheek and golden brown hair. 

_You bloody angel_ , Sirius thought.

“Hey,” Remus said. 

“Hi, come in."

Sirius had thought that perhaps he’d played off his own distress properly, but Remus was wildly intuitive, and was simply waiting until the door closed to confront his melancholia. 

“Sirius, have you been crying?,” he asked gently, stroking a stray tear off of his cheek. 

“No."

Remus chuckled, but there was no humor in his tone. 

“Yes, you have. What happened?"

Remus followed Sirius to his bed, and pulled him into his chest before placing a kiss atop his head. 

“Nothing."

Remus sighed. 

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but don’t pretend that it’s nothing. There’s no embarrassment in being sad."

It was a statement that Sirius would have deflected off of from anyone else. It was a statement he’d been told countless times after leaving home, but never seemed to see the validity in. He thought, then, that there was no way he _wasn’t_ in love with Remus—because it was now a statement he actually started to believe in. 

“My brother called.” 

Remus didn’t know everything about Sirius’ family—just that they were cruel and abusive and raised a home full of fear. He didn’t know what a call from Sirius’ brother meant, exactly, but he knew that it must be taxing.

“Okay,” Remus said, with more of a gentle permission for continuation than boredom. 

“My family lives in London. And Reg—my brother, Regulus, he wants me to go and see him. And I want to see him, too, I do, I just—"

He wasn’t quite crying again yet, but Remus could sense that he was getting there. 

Laying him softly onto the duvet, Remus sat beside him comfortingly. Sirius had appeared, since he’d known him, to be a mostly open person, and that was his driving factor in believing that he probably just needed some time before he spoke. Sirius didn’t need to tell him that. He just knew. 

“Well, it’s just that, I sort of abandoned him when we were younger. I left to move in with James and I sort of just left him in the house with our parents. I don’t think I really realized what I was doing."

Remus' heart broke for Sirius. He’d never had any siblings himself, so he didn’t _really_ get it—but he could imagine. It was then that Remus realized he would have carried the weight of all Sirius’ pain in a locket around his neck if it meant that Sirius didn’t have to feel it anymore. 

“That’s not your fault. But I’m sure you’ve already been told that."

“Once or twice. James, usually.” 

It was apparent that Remus’ presence alone had swelled his heart and diluted his sufferings. They wouldn’t go away, certainly—but it was inexplicably solacing to know that someone was there to pick up Sirius if he’d fallen, carry the bags he couldn’t seem to lift anymore. Along with his quieting stress, Sirius’ eyes had begun to flutter closed. They had a long day, after all. 

Remus noticed his floaty state and pressed a soft kiss to Sirius’ forehead. 

“Sleep well, Sirius."

In response, Sirius simply pulled Remus’ body towards his own, wrapping his arms around Remus’ middle and puzzling his head through the crook of the brunette’s head.

“Goodnight, mon trésor.” 

And when Remus thought it might be okay, when he thought that Sirius was fast asleep, he whispered quietly. 

“I love you.” 

❁❁❁

The following morning was filled with much excitement, the heart and soul of a rock and roll tour. Sirius had spoken to Regulus briefly in the morning, and they agreed to meet at a small cafe they were familiar with from childhood. James, Peter, and Remus told him it was the right thing to do, and Lily said she would steal her family car to pick him up if anything went horribly wrong. 

Sirius appeared to be at peace with himself, and so, the day could go on. A Friday evening with a moody Sirius Black was remarkably unpleasant, regardless of the circumstances. 

“Do you lot remember my friend Florence from school? Well, I spoke to her on the phone the other day, and she said she’s been touring with Black Sabbath for about a year now. Anyway, there’s some party at St. Mungo’s Hotel tonight. She said we should all come.” 

Dorcas had proposed this plan while the group was enjoying a continental breakfast, discussing what possible trouble they could get into once the sun went down. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember her! I thought she was going to nursing school,” Mary replied, mouth full of orange juice. 

“Well, she _was_ , but I suppose if Ozzy Osbourne asks you to come on tour with him, you go. Perhaps she’s just taking a break,” Dorcas replied reclusively, as if she had committed an act against feminism by suggesting a path like that. 

Everyone was rather keen on the idea, everyone except James Potter, who was almost certain that a different, more unfriendly face might also be at St. Mungo’s Hotel that night.

He didn’t think that Sirius and Peter, or even Lily for that matter, would be interested in the fight that tended to eventually ensue in the presence of him.

Severus Snape.

Drummer for the Heir of Slytherin. 

They were an awful band, really, relying little on actual passion for music and more on the obsession with glory and money. It was a bad habit to have in the industry, but if you had the right manager, they ate it up. 

“Listen, that sounds fun and everything, and I don’t want to be annoying—but are we sure that Snape isn’t going to be there? I know Florence used to run with his crowd. I haven’t so much as seen him since school, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

It was quite obvious that nobody but James had even considered the possibility of Snape ruining their evening, because they all shuddered at his thought. Even more troubling, where Snape went, his band mates went—so it was very possible that they might have to suffer the untalented company of Lucius Malfoy and Barty Crouch Jr. 

“If I see Snape, I’ll just kill him. Simple as that,” Sirius had said, which made everyone laugh for a moment. 

“Wait, I’m sorry, you lot went to school with Severus Snape? Heir of Slytherin is an awful band, such a shame you had to keep his company for so long,” Remus chimed in, once again using his music knowledge and socializing himself with it like a skill. 

“Yeah, he was quite terrible. But that wasn’t really all,” Peter said, trailing off a bit. 

Everyone looked hesitantly to Lily, then, perhaps asking for permission to air some dirty laundry. In Evans fashion, the red-head did it herself.

“Uh, yeah, me and Snape were friends when we were a lot younger. Kids, really. I think he maybe had a crush on me at one point, but obviously not enough, because he had some _issues_. Issues with me being friends with the people I was, problems with _other_ things."

Remus didn’t quite understand what she was trying to say—everyone had issues with everything now. It could have been anything. 

“What Lily is trying to say is that Snape is a homophobic piece of shit. And he was embarrassed for his entire life that Sirius was gay and could still beat him to a pulp. That motherfucker. I’d deck him myself if I could.”

Remus had never heard Marlene so riled up about something since he’d known her, and the conviction was a pleasing revelation. It was nice to know that he was in company with the right people. 

“Right,” Lily closed. 

“Well, I say we don’t let _Snape_ ruin our night. He probably won’t be there. I’m sure that Florence doesn’t speak to him anymore. And if we see him, we leave. Or punch him in the nose. Whatever feels right,” Mary advised, then, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

It was possible she was very right—Mary Macdonald was rarely wrong about things like this. The rest of the group seemed to agree, and Peter was particularly awe-struck by her charming tenacity, Remus had noticed. He was so obvious, but it was so lovely to watch, anyway. 

“In the meantime, I say that we do a little shopping. What do you say? We’re back in England, after all. It calls for celebration.”

Shopping was not an activity Remus was accustomed to. He had been on quite a tight budget since college, and preferred to buy everything secondhand if he could help it. Still, watching Sirius change in and out of shirts to test their flattery was not an undesirable experience in any right. 

“Oh, Remus, this would look lovely on you,” Dorcas said, extending a button down towards him. 

It was a nice shirt, he had to admit, and it did something to his heart to know that he now had friends who would look at something and think of him.

The shirt was a white, silky button down with a wide collar, that looked just simple enough to prove demure, but fun enough to prove Remus’ newfound dedication to excitement. 

“Yeah, Re, why don’t you try it on? It’d look good with those jeans too. You could wear it tonight,” Lily encouraged. 

She’d never mention it to Remus, because she didn’t want to get in his head, but Lily Evans had grown quite proud of the boy she’s driven around town with just a month ago. It wasn’t that he was shy, then, but more that Lily was certain he belonged in their little found family and hoped she was right in her convictions to integrate him into the group. She had been. 

Remus was certainly not going to try on the shirt in the middle of the store like Sirius and James had—he was far too insecure about his scarred chest for that. But he wasn’t in the mood to cause a scene with his own bashfulness, so Remus explained that he had to pee anyway and would simply try it on the bathroom. 

Scuttling over to the small restroom, Remus was quite aware that someone had followed him. That someone being Sirius Black. 

“I know you don’t have to pee,” he started in such a sing-song, childish tone, that it made Remus laugh. 

“Are you in control of my bladder, then?” 

“ _No_ , but I do know your aura, or something like that.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Aura?"

“I don’t know. Marlene was going on about it. It’s like your energy or something. Apparently mine is purple.” 

“Purple. Makes sense.” 

Sirius laughed. “Don’t tease me. Anyway, try on the shirt, I want to see you in it.” 

Remus obliged, pulling the ribbed shirt over his head, still recoiling out of instinct despite Sirius’ many opportunities of seeing Remus shirtless. Sirius smiled softly as he did so, as if to remind him that it was only him, and there was no harm in that. 

“Okay, come here, I’ll button it for you.”

It was obvious that Sirius only wanted an excuse to be closer to Remus, but the boy accepted his help knowing such a fact. 

“How’s your morning been?,” Sirius asked as he worked on each button painfully slow. 

“You’ve been with me all morning."

“Well, sure, but that was in a group. I didn’t get a chance to ask how you were doing. So?"

Remus curled his lips up, wondering how he had suddenly gotten so lucky with his life.

“Oh, well in that case, I’ve had a lovely day. Getting a lot better right now, as well. How are you?"

Sirius gazed up into Remus’ hazel eyes, as if he’d just asked for his hand in marriage.

“Perfect,” he replied in barely a whisper. “Okay, all done.” 

There was something so strange about it, Remus and Sirius standing in a claustrophobic restroom at an entirely random clothing store, and still finding themselves in a position of confessional consideration. Perhaps, Remus thought, it was the comfort of it all. 

“Sirius, I—“ 

But their moment was cut short by the loud knock of the bathroom’s hickory door. 

“Oi, are you guys almost finished in there? I have to pee,” James shouted. 

Remus had, indeed, worn his new blouse, and The Marauders and co. were now arriving at St. Mungo’s Hotel. Just as they entered, it seemed their evening would be far more perilous than they could have intended. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you caught the reference to a piece of almost famous dialogue ily :)
> 
> also IM SORRY FOR THE CLIFF HANGER. LIKE SO SORRY. but it would have been way too long in one chapter. i promise i'll update ASAP, its almost halfway done anyway :) 
> 
> also i made James a cockblock literally 10 times in this fic so far im sorry its not on purpose lol


	7. remus lupin & the fight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gang attends a party, and remus throws a punch. 
> 
> warning for some depictions of homophobia and a fight. take care of yourselves please <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! it’s been a while, and i’m super sorry about that! thank you so much for all of your lovely feedback. i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> xoxo

The Marauders & Co. arrived at the penthouse suite with no intention other than an unobstructed good time. 

By the time they’d made a lap around the room, it became obvious that Mary knew almost everyone in the hotel, and her presence had since been in and out for the evening. _It must be exhausting to know this many people_ , Remus thought.

In other locations, James and Peter were chatting with someone that looked vaguely like Marc Bolan but could have been anyone, while Lily accompanied Marlene and Dorcas in their adventures with a locally-grown joint. 

It was just as a party should be—noisy and familiar and fun. Remus couldn’t even deny the favorability of his own position— which he supposed came with the territory of world touring with a rock band. 

“Dears, I’m going to find Gid and Fab. Remember them from festival last year?,” Dorcas said. 

Dorcas had an uncanny ability to remember everyone by name the moment she met them, which came in handy when Marlene’s mind had slipped of all evening interactions and Mary’s list of acquaintances scrolled to the ground. 

“Oh, yeah, right, I remember! Gideon had the huuuuugest crush on Sirius,” Peter added. It was a true guess, but there was no real heaviness in it. Everyone had a crush on Sirius Black.

The group laughed richly, but Sirius simply smiled shyly and placed a hand on Remus’ lower back—which made Remus blush furiously—and whispered coyly in his ear, just bashful enough that the group couldn’t hear. 

“I’m all yours, don’t worry.” 

Remus’ smile, then, was one that proved so specific and yet so universal—creeping out with such bashful pleasantry that he simply couldn’t help it. 

As Dorcas and Marlene skittered away to entertain the twins, James came to an unfortunate discovery—one that was sure to rip away any shred of comfort the group may have felt thirty seconds ago—and wrapped a protective arm around Lily. 

“Mates, I hate to be the one to tell you this. But I’ve just seen Snivellus.”

Severus Snape was a despicable, bitter man who had only ever gotten off on inflicting misery on those who he claimed to have wronged him. Lily Evans, who was an angel and a half—and the only person who’d ever generously offered Snape kindness—was the object of Snape’s affections for a good long couple of years in their youth. 

It was a couple of years too long. 

Sirius and James felt no sympathy towards the boy—in school and in adulthood—for the simple reason being that he was a bigoted twat with greasy hair. Perhaps it was wrong of them to criticize his less-than-picturesque appearance, and perhaps it was true that Sirius and James enjoyed their reign of royalty in school. But there was no denying it—Snape deserved every ounce of grief he received. 

_Sirius could remember the day quite well. He enjoyed pretending that he did not, that it was another day of rambunctiousness that clumped together in his boarding school_ _experience—but that would be a far misfire._

_It was a couple of weeks after Sirius had come out. He felt entirely grateful for the reaction he’d provoked from it—and given that he ignored his family and Severus Snape—everyone was rather accepting of him. There were brief moments in time when Sirius doubted himself, but they never lasted long and generally rooted for someone else’s input. It was very possible that Sirius Black was invincible, and he didn’t like being made to feel otherwise._

_Snape had approached Sirius when he was alone. There wasn’t a reason for the interaction—both parties knew this—but they were both on guard anyway._

_“Snape,” Sirius regarded coldly._

_Snape had, in all probability, let out a sneer._

_“Black. Heard you’re a queer now.”_

_Sirius had been expecting this._

_“Yes,” he replied; simply, unbothered._

_Snape clucked his tongue and laughed nefariously. The real, usual issue with the boy was that his attitude was so unabashedly unattractive that it was comical at best and annoying at most. James and Sirius, in a typical fashion, would have laughed simply at Snape’s irritable sneer and fixated obsession with those who took no interest in him. But right now, Sirius only felt imperialized._

_“Well, it’s a shame. Leaving your family with a disgrace of an heir and Regulus with a pathetic excuse for a brother,” Snape said, before spitting on Sirius’ face without an ounce of hesitation or remorse._

_Sirius did not say anything immediately, too afraid of his own blinding rage to speak. He thought it possible to have killed Snape with his bare hands in that moment, and it was entirely probable that he could have. Instead, Sirius wiped the spit off of his face calculatedly, and his silence could only be described as so terrifying it must have been a precursor for something else._

_The next day, Sirius punched Snape with such repeated furiousness and mercilessness that James had to physically pry the boy from Snape’s body. There was blood everywhere. Snape did not speak to Sirius directly again._

“Sirius, are you alright?” 

Remus’ placating voice had only registered in Sirius’ mind after a moment. He smiled tightly at Remus, attempting to feign normality simply because it seemed like the only thing to do. 

“Yeah, yeah, the room’s stuffy is all. I’m going out for a smoke.” 

“Oh, okay. Want me to come?"

“No. _No_ , I don’t want you to come."

Sirius should not have said it, and he did not want to, but he did anyway. It was a thought that lacked logic, but Sirius was certain Remus could see right through him. He was a transparent figure that walked around without a secret to hold. And Sirius would not let Remus realize that he could have any weaknesses which extended past that of an endearing lack of humility or talkative nature. 

Sirius walked out the door, and he would soon realize how big a mistake that truly was. 

❁❁❁

Sirius had not returned for quite a while, and Remus was considerably close to going and finding him, if it hadn’t been for the approach of a head of greasy black hair and his blond haired keeper, Lucius Malfoy. Remus could understand why his friends hated Snape, and he hadn’t even spoken a word to him. There was an heir of discomfort to the man, like Remus was not safe around him simply because he existed. 

Remus wished Sirius was beside him. 

“Lily,” Snape started coldly. “I see you still keep ridiculous company.”

Without missing a beat, Lily glared uninterestedly at him. “Severus, I would just walk away now before you get yourself into a fight you know you can’t win.” 

James looked ready to take Snape down himself, and Peter, usually shy and passive, appeared equally as eager to throw a punch. It was interesting how quickly timidness could be replaced with force when deep-running friendship was involved. If it weren’t for Lily’s grip equally protecting and warning on James’s arm, Snape would be on the floor. 

Remus was blinded with violent agitation, and he wasn’t quite sure why, although he would soon enough.

“What, Potter? Are you too afraid to speak to me without your dog? Where’s Black, anyway?” 

Things were starting to click in Remus’ brain, now, although he couldn’t draw a concrete conclusion quite yet; Sirius was gone because of Snape, he knew that much. His Sirius—bright and happy and sociable and effervescent—was standing alone in the cold with a lonely cigarette, because of Snape. 

It was enough. 

“What’s it to you?,” Remus asked darkly.

_It was a precursor for something else._

”Oh, who are you?,” Snape replied with such condescension that it was probable Mary would have landed a punch herself if she’d heard it. “I didn’t realize Black had a fan club following him around now. Are you his boyfriend of the week?” 

Remus tried not to react, but it was completely futile. 

“I don’t think you know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Remus replied, and the naturally intelligent tone of his voice could certainly make another party feel stupid if he wished them to. Snape did not like feeling foolish. 

“I _know_ that Sirius Black is just as haughty and ridiculous as he was in school. I can only assume you to be the same if you subscribe to him to dotingly. He is not worth the time of a single person in this room.” 

The remark was dramatic and unnecessary and uttered through gritted teeth, and Remus was _angry_. 

_He_ _punched Snape with such repeated furiousness and mercilessness that James and Peter both had to physically pry the boy from Snape’s body. There was blood everywhere._

“ _Remus!,”_ James shouted. Or perhaps it was Lily. Or Peter. He did not remember. 

Inevitably the stir had caused the crowded room to glance the group’s way, and Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas found themselves quickly rushing over. Mary, ever-so-sensible and astute, was the first to speak. 

“We’d better leave. Now. Where’s Sirius?"

The group looked to Remus on instinct. 

“Who the fuck knows? He said he was leaving for a smoke 20 minutes ago.” 

❁❁❁

Sirius was eventually found, and the trip back to the hotel was silent. James was certain it was the only time he’d ever been so quiet in his life. Despite the tenseness of their previous, begrudging engagement, some comfort could be found in the dark ride home. Dorcas had fallen asleep almost immediately after sitting on the taxi’s leather seats, head resting gently on Marlene’s shoulder as the latter stroked her hair. Similarly, Mary had found her arms linked into Peter’s as they sat quietly. In the next cab over, James soberly directed the driver while reaching behind his seat for Lily’s hand. 

And even Sirius—who was entirely confused by Remus' current predicament—found himself resting his chin on Remus’ shoulder and stroking soothingly on his hand, which was now bloodied from the fight. 

❁❁❁

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened?”, Sirius asked with both firmness and soft intonation. 

He’d been clothing at Remus’ wounded fist for ten minutes, realizing that the injury was minuscule but feeling unready to dispatch from their closeness quite yet. 

“Nothing important,” Remus mumbled. “Why did you go out to smoke alone for 20 minutes?”

There was no point in passivity, he supposed.

Sirius did not answer him immediately, but instead sighed, as if this conversation was an inevitable cycle of life he’d been meticulously avoiding until now. 

“I don’t know.” 

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. And because he was laughing, Sirius did too. 

“ _What?_ ,” the latter smiled. 

“I mean, those are both pretty shite answers,” Remus started humorously. “ _Nothing important_ and _I don’t know_. We’re great communicators.” 

Sirius was inclined to laugh again, but his mind was snapped back into graveness when he remembered Remus’ knuckles. Remus was an angel, he was not meant to be hurt. 

“Re,” he tried again. “What _happened?”_

“Severus Snape is very unpleasant.”

Sirius’ eyes widened. 

“Oh, _Remus_. What did you do?,” he said, stroking Remus’ cheek gently. 

“I didn’t do anything to him that he didn’t deserve.” 

“Oh, I’m sure he did deserve it. But why put up a fight? I don’t think you’ll ever have to see him again.” 

Remus looked down into his lap sheepishly. 

“You weren’t there to defend yourself.” 

“You fought because of _me_? _Remus._ ” 

Remus wanted to tell him that _yes_ , he had fought because of him. He wanted to tell him that he would fight a thousand wars for him, and he wanted to tell him that there was nobody else in the world he would have _fought_ so incredibly hard for. If Sirius smiled, Remus’ troubles were enough. 

“What was I supposed to do Sirius? I wasn’t going to let him stand there and talk about you like that.” 

“ _Why?_ It would have made your life so much easier, and you would have perfectly good knuckles right now."

Remus eyes glazed over. 

“Don’t ask me why.” 

Sirius did not relent. 

“ _Why?”_

" _Because_ , Sirius..” 

“Because why?” 

“I can’t say it."

“Why not?"

“Because you don’t have _time_ to hear it and—” 

Sirius did not let Remus continue.

“I have all the time in the world. What is it?"

Remus huffed out a quick breath, and as if he was drunk, did not consider the consequence of this particular admission. 

“I love you Sirius, is that what you wanted to hear? I love you. I don’t go a minute without thinking about you and I would give you whatever you wanted if you let me. But it’s stupid for me to love you because it won’t matter after this tour. You like me, I’m sure of it, you don’t snog people you don’t like. But I want a house in a suburb and a dog and a life with someone, and you don’t want that, and that’s okay. It’s more than okay because you have an amazing life and I don’t want you to ever give that up. But I think you can see why it would be hard to for me to have to tell you something like this when it’s all a waste.” 

Maybe it was unfair, but before Remus could even allow Sirius a response, he kissed him quickly and walked out the door. 


End file.
